


One More Dirty Job

by Coriaria



Series: One More Dirty Job AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU post first war, Aftermath of Torture, Canonical Character Death, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-20 06:39:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 28,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13712031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriaria/pseuds/Coriaria
Summary: He’s done all the dirty jobs for the Order, the jobs that nobody else would touch. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all. And so, at the end of the first wizarding war, a grief-stricken Remus Lupin agrees to do one more job for Albus Dumbledore. But when he realises exactly what the job entails, Lupin wishes he hadn’t.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is AU just after the end of the first wizarding war.  
> Disclaimer: they belong to JKR, obviously…  
> Written for the July 2017 Moonlight Madness fest on Lupin-Snape.

Remus Lupin was probably going to die horribly.

He had come to that conclusion the moment he realised that someone had breached his wards and entered his cottage. While his door could have been broken down by a particularly energetic knock, he knew his wards were good. Very good. Only a particularly powerful wizard could have sauntered through them so effortlessly.

Unfortunately, while one part of his brain was telling him he was going to die, and another part was analysing the kind of magic which would have been required to breach the wards, yet another part of his brain was pointing out that he really couldn’t care less. This might have been the same part of his brain that had decided to drink most of a bottle of cheap firewhisky and pass out on the floor. So he lay there, considering that if he was going to die a horrible, painful death, at least he wouldn’t have to face it sober. Not like James had. Or Lily. Or Peter.

He was vaguely aware of a wand pointing at him. It brought him back to the moment. One horrible death coming up.

Then he felt himself hauled off the floor and was staring into blue eyes that twinkled like shattered glass. He caught a faint whiff of lemon drops. Albus Dumbledore. That probably meant that an immediate horrible death was off the agenda.

Dumbledore shoved a vial into his hand.

“Drink it,” he said, and Lupin drank.

He was suddenly sober. Hung over, but sober. He forced a polite smile onto his face and hoped he wouldn’t be sick over Dumbledore’s lilac and blue robe.

Another vial was shoved into his hand.

“Now drink this one.”

It was hangover potion. A brief moment of gratitude was followed by suspicion. The cunning old wizard never did anything without a purpose in mind. He probably wanted something from Lupin.

“Remus, dear boy,” Dumbledore said, with an ominously cheerful tone, “how have you been?”

“Fine, thank you, sir,” he replied, keeping the polite smile fixed to his face. Lupin would have said he was “fine” if someone chopped off his leg. “How are you?”

“Rather occupied right now. I’ve got a job for you. Thought you’d appreciate the work.”

“Of course, sir. That’s most kind of you.”

Lupin dipped his head in something between a nod and a slight bow.

Oh yes, Dumbledore always had jobs for him. Of course, they were the jobs that weren’t discussed at the Order meetings, the jobs that nobody else would touch – too dodgy for Mundungus Fletcher, too insane Alastor Moody, too terrifying for the Prewitt brothers. Lupin knew that whatever Dumbledore asked would be disgusting, demeaning or even downright dangerous.

Horrible death was back on the agenda.  



	2. Chapter 2

 

Lupin felt his heart sink as Dumbledore described his plan. Dangerous? Tick. Difficult? Tick. Insane enough that Moody would think twice? Tick. Demeaning? Maybe not, but there was a good chance that the plan would require him to kill a defenceless man in cold blood. Needless to say, Lupin was less than delighted.  
  
“Abraxas Malfoy,” Dumbledore had begun, while stroking his whiskers thoughtfully, “is trying to keep his son out of Azkaban.”

Lupin had given a polite nod and a “hmm”.

“We have agreed that I will help him if he gives me the Order’s spy. Unfortunately, the Death Eaters figured out who the spy was, and they are now holding him prisoner.”

Lupin had suspected Dumbledore had a spy. Some of the jobs Lupin had done would have been impossible without inside assistance.

“You’d let Malfoy go free to get your spy back? He must be very important to you.”

“He knows too much. If he breaks… I can’t have that.”

“But the war is over. Sir.”

Even as he said it, he knew he was wrong. Voldemort was gone, but the Death Eaters went on like a decapitated cockroach. The defeat of their head hadn’t stopped them from torturing Alice and Frank Longbottom to insanity.

“The war has been… interrupted. I do not believe that Voldemort has gone for good. The Order must be protected. Harry Potter must be protected.”

Dumbledore paused thoughtfully.

“Knowledge must be protected. I am told that the spy is close to being broken. It must not happen. I’m uncertain what condition he is in. If you can bring him to me, all well and good. If not… “

Lupin swallowed uncomfortably. He didn’t like where the conversation was heading.

“Use the killing curse. The Ministry won’t detect it in a Death Eater prison.”

“Of course, sir. I understand.”

He even managed a small smile. Mustn’t seem ungrateful.

“Now, do you still have stewed lacewings prepared?”

Lupin nodded.

“Do you still have any stage one polyjuice?”

Lupin nodded again.

“Well then, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble.”

Dumbledore handed him a folded piece of parchment. Lupin unfolded it to reveal a long, blonde hair.

“Lucius is due to guard the prisoner tomorrow night. Abraxas will stun him to prevent him going out and you will take his place. Once you are in, it’s up to you how you proceed.”

Of course. Dumbledore had given him the means to get in. It was up to Lupin to devise a way out.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, shaking Dumbledore’s hand as if the old wizard had just done him a favour. In fact, Lupin suspected, Dumbledore may have just signed his death warrant.


	3. Chapter 3

  
“You’re late, Malfoy.”

Amycus Carrow was fidgeting, looking impatient. Lupin stared back with icy blue eyes. Malfoy was always late, and Lupin wasn’t silly enough to give himself away with a beginner’s mistake like inappropriate punctuality.

“I had better things to do,” he said dismissively.

“You made a nice job getting the blood out of that robe. And fixing the scorch marks.”

Carrow was giving Lupin a suspicious look. Lupin could hardly turn up as Malfoy in his usual tatty cast-offs, so he’d transfigured one of his better robes to be bottle green velvet with silver trim. He’d seen Malfoy wearing an outfit like it a couple of months back and the charm would hold at least as long as his Polyjuice. Just his luck that Carrow had seen the robe get wrecked.

Still, Lucius Malfoy didn’t need to justify his – or perhaps Narcissa’s – domestic skills to the likes of Carrow. Lupin pulled himself up taller and looked down his nose. He gave a shrug and pushed past Carrow to peer down the stone stairs and into the cellar.

“Any luck with our esteemed guest? Has he been any more forthcoming?”

Carrow shook his head.

“He’s a tough little bastard. I crucioed him until he pissed himself, then afterwards he had the gall to sneer at me. So I fixed his damned nose then broke it again. And the greasy little half-blood spat at me. I really gave it to him then.”

Lupin failed to keep a look of concern flashing across his face.

“Don’t say you are worried about him,” Carrow snarled. “Oh, that’s right, the slimy little traitor was your _friend_.”

Lupin managed an unfriendly smile.

“I’m worried that you might lack the self control to leave him in a fit condition for questioning. He knows far to much to just let him die.”

“Don’t worry, he’s still alive for you to enjoy. Have fun.”

Somehow, Lupin doubted that he would.  



	4. Chapter 4

  
Walden Macnair. Lupin wished that the spy had been Macnair. He’d have cheerfully lobbed a killing curse through the bars of the cell and gone home to sleep the sleep of the just. Or Mulciber, that vicious, perverted creep. Why couldn’t the spy have been Mulciber?

But no. Unless there was another half-blood Death Eater who was friends with Lucius Malfoy and had poor personal hygiene, the spy was Severus Snape.

It was so ironic it hurt. Less than a month after Sirius had turned out to be a traitor, Snape turned out to be the Order’s spy. He should have seen it. It was always Sirius – or James, he had to admit – who started the trouble. Snape might have retaliated with some truly awful dark curses, but he wasn’t the bully. And how in Merlin’s name did an eleven year old know curses like that anyway? When Lupin was a child, he’d just thought it meant that Snape was evil. But looking at it as an adult… a child doesn’t learn that stuff alone. Someone had taught him.

And still, Snape had come back to the light.

Lupin paced up and down the corridor outside the cell. Looking like Lucius Malfoy had got him into the house and then into the cellar, but there was a layer of wards around the cell that he wasn’t sure how to release. He thought he could do it, but it would take hours. He had maybe another three hours as Malfoy, probably not enough. He knew what Dumbledore would say. But…

No, he wouldn’t do this to Snape. He’d nearly killed him once, and he had no desire to complete the job. He had let Snape down badly at school – he had never intervened when his friends bullied Snape, not even when he was a prefect and, quite clearly, it was his duty. He knew what his duty was now, and it wasn’t to follow Dumbledore’s plan.

Lupin continued pacing. Then he felt a crunch under one of his transfigured dragonhide boots.

Lupin lifted his foot gingerly, then jumped backwards, giving a small yelp of fright. He’d taken Polyjuice and walked into gatherings of Death Eaters without flinching, but Lupin _hated_ cockroaches. On the other hand…

He peered into the dark cell, sending a ball of light in so that he could see more clearly. Odd how his magic could get in, but he couldn’t. Convenient for harassing prisoners though. Lupin could see a pile of rags lying on a filthy blanket in the corner. The pile of rags had moved slightly since he’d last looked, and Lupin could now see the greasy black hair. He could also see cockroaches, crawling over the floor, the walls, and over Snape.

He took aim with his wand, careful aim. He didn’t want to get this wrong.

“ _Avada Kedavra_.”

There was a flash of green and Lupin turned away. Quickly he walked up the steps and away from the old manor. When he had left the wards behind, he apparated home, flicked open one of his spell books, set an alarm with his wand and proceeded to get very, very drunk.


	5. Chapter 5

Lupin woke when his wand began poking him in the eye. He tried to bat it away with his hand, but it just moved and began poking his other eye. He tried to grab it, and it darted out of his way, before moving back in and giving him a sharp flick on the cheek.

It took the wand poking up his nose – forcing him to lift himself from the floor – a vial of Sober-up and several swigs of hangover potion before Lupin remembered what he needed to do. When he did, he very nearly got drunk all over again. But he’d lived with his guilt for too long, and this was his chance to do the right thing. He changed the robe, which was slowly morphing back from green velvet to worn brown wool, for black muggle jeans and jersey, and apparated back to the cockroach-infested cellar.

In the hours since Lupin had been gone, it appeared that Snape had not moved at all. He had a brief moment of panic that his killing curse had gone astray, but when he looked closely, he could see the rise and fall of Snape’s breathing, and a single cockroach with its legs curled up lying beside his head. Difficult things to kill, cockroaches. Lupin thought that his parents would have been impressed.

Lupin pointed his wand into the cell, holding on to the memory of his parents, but thinking of an earlier time, not a cockroach-infested house outside Birmingham chosen entirely for the robustness of its cellar, but a sunny cottage with a garden full of raspberries.

“ _Expecto patronam_.”

A silvery bird fluttered from the end of his wand and began to hop around on the ground, flicking its tail. It really was the silliest and most unimpressive patronus, but it was… well, he supposed it symbolised that time as well as anything. His mother used to call him her little blackbird when he sneaked into the garden and almost made himself sick eating the raspberries. For a moment the bird seemed to fade as he remembered… but no, he needed to think about what he had to do now. It brightened up again and flew across the cell, landing on the rags. It hopped a couple of times before stretching out its wings, and suddenly Snape was covered by a silvery glow.

Lupin left the cellar and walked around until he was outside the house, facing the wall where the cell lay. There was a tiny barred window near ground level for ventilation, otherwise there was no sign of what lay within. He backed up a bit, held out his wand and took a deep breath.

“ _Confringo_.”

The wall of the house exploded in flames. Lupin kept his wand trained on the fireball, and then through the heat and rubble a silver shape rose up. It moved towards him until it rested on the ground in front and then dissapated.

“Snape?”

Lupin crouched down beside the ragged figure that had been surrounded by the patronus. He reached out gingerly, touching the mass of black hair. The figure gave a start, and suddenly dark eyes were staring at him.

“Snape? Severus? It’s Remus Lupin.”

There was no sign of acknowledgement or recognition.

“Severus, I’m taking you back to my cottage. I’m going to put my arm around you to apparate you there.”

Snape cringed away from his touch, but Lupin reached out and wrapped strong arms around him. With the broken figure held tight against his body, Lupin apparated back to his cottage.


	6. Chapter 6

When Lupin came to, he was lying outside his cottage in the damp grass. His brain was fuzzy and the last thing he could remember was…

Oh. Getting horribly drunk after his unsuccessful rescue mission.

He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and took a few deep breaths. His head remained fuzzy, and he couldn’t remember anything beyond drinking firewhisky as if it was butterbeer. He must have really gone too far this time. He’d been drinking a lot lately – in fact he had been for a year or two if he was honest – but he’d never been so drunk that he couldn’t remember. 

Lupin noticed, with some relief, that his wand was directly in front of him. He reached for it and was relieved that the effort of moving wasn’t as bad as he expected. He felt hung over, but not as hung over has he should be. Perhaps he wasn’t actually sober yet.

Beside his wand was a bottle of firewhisky, near empty, and a note, addressed to him and in his handwriting. He frowned slightly as he read. 

_Remus_  
If you are reading this you probably got so drunk you forgot to report in to Dumbledore on the attempted rescue of the spy. Remember, the wards were too difficult to break quickly, so you killed him instead. As instructed. You need to go and report now. Don’t bother to change.  
Remus 

_PS Drink the firewhisky. It will help._

_PPS Might be best to take the broom. Don’t want to splinch yourself._

If he’d needed confirmation that he hadn’t yet sobered up, it came from the fact that he thought another drink of firewhisky was a good idea. He grabbed his broom – also sitting conveniently nearby – and took off, still holding the bottle.

Lupin had the distinct impression that Dumbledore wasn’t impressed with him.

“Good morning, sir,” he said.

“Remus, are you aware of the time?”

Lupin frowned and checked his wrist, where he sometimes wore a muggle wristwatch. Of course, it wasn’t there. He’d hardly have worn a watch pretending to be Lucius Malfoy. Not that he looked much like Malfoy now. The only signs were the few patches of his robe that were still green velvet.

“No sir. I’m sorry, I know it’s late. Or early. I was… I was upset with how the job went. I’m afraid I had a bit to drink.”

Lupin wasn’t sure that he should have said that. Or drunk quite so much. He’d finished the bottle on the way to Hogwarts.

“What happened, Remus?”

The voice was concerned, but Lupin thought he was probably concerned about the success of the mission.

“The cell was heavily warded. I didn’t think I could get through in the time I had. So I…”

Lupin paused. The note had said he’d killed the spy. Had killed Snape. That wasn’t quite what he remembered. He thought he’d killed a cockroach, and then… he thought he’d left. But… he cast his mind back. The images in his mind looked like he’d killed Snape – the figure lying in the cell, the green flash.

“I went with plan B, sir.”

Dumbledore looked briefly confused.

“Dear boy, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Plan B. If I couldn’t rescue him… kill him. With the killing curse.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

“Really? May I see.”

As if it was a request. As if Lupin had any choice.

Lupin balled his hands into fists as he felt Dumbledore moving into his mind. He hated this part. He had very little in the way of occlumency skills – the best he could manage was to divert people into the wolf memories and Dumbledore was too good for that. With ruthless efficiency he worked through the images – Carrow, the pile of rags that was Snape, the anxiously pacing Lupin, the flash of green shooting across the cell, Lupin fleeing. And then Lupin drinking glass after glass of firewhisky until he couldn’t remember anymore.

“You’re still drunk, Remus.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It makes the images blurry. Next time, Remus, sober up before coming.”

“There won’t be a next time. Sir. I’ve had enough. No more dirty jobs.”

Dumbledore looked a little surprised, but not as surprised as Lupin.

“Very well, Remus. I thank you for your service. It’s a shame really. You’ve very talented, have picked up some excellent skills. You’d have been good as an auror you know.”

“I appreciate the compliment, sir, but I can’t eat compliments. May I have my money please?”


	7. Chapter 7

Lupin was nearly crying when he got back to his cottage. It was over, he really had had enough. If losing James, Peter and Lily wasn’t enough, if finding out Sirius was a traitor wasn’t enough, then having to execute one of his old classmates surely was. The bag of galleons – blood money – in his pocket was uncomfortably heavy. It should have been silver. Thirty pieces of silver. Of course that was even more absurd because he was a werewolf. A monster. A pariah. Untrustworthy. He was untrustworthy? If they’d trusted him, James, Peter and Lily would have survived.

When he flung open the door to his cottage and saw the figure lying on his bed, the ranting in his head stopped immediately. Now he was just confused. He had killed Snape, hadn’t he? That’s what he’d told Dumbledore, and Dumbledore had believed him. Dumbledore would have known if Lupin was lying.

And yet, here he was, Severus Snape, lying on Lupin’s bed.

The spy didn’t look any better than he had back at the prison. His eyes were open, but there was a blankness to them. His hair was filthy, his face a mass of bruises, his nose hugely swollen and purple. His shoulders were hunched and tense, and his whole body trembled. Lupin couldn’t see any more of his body under the filthy, ragged robes, but he suspected that Snape’s body was in no better condition than his face.

In that state, Lupin was quite sure, Snape couldn’t have got himself to Lupin’s cottage. So what in Merlin’s name had happened?

Lupin glanced around the room and saw another note – this one sitting on the small table that served duty as a dining table, workbench and desk. He picked it up and read.

_Remus  
You are probably feeling confused right now – _

No kidding. The other marauders had often gently teased him over his talent for stating the obvious.

Lupin sat down at the table as he read through the note with increasing alarm. The part about killing the cockroach made sense – a leglimens could view images and hear words from memories, but could not read thoughts or intent. He saw how such an approach might just fool Dumbledore, as long as he hadn’t insisted Lupin sober up before viewing his memories. But then – _Confringo_? That was an extremely dangerous curse, bordering on unforgivable. Ministry aurors would be all over the house where Snape had been kept, trying to work out what happened.

And then, he’d… he’d oblivated himself? That was just insane. There were so many ways it could have gone wrong.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. It appeared that Lupin’s plan had finished at the point where he convinced Dumbledore that Snape was dead. After that, what? He looked across to Snape again. It didn’t look like he was going to get up, thank Lupin for his rescue and head off into the sunset.

Somehow, Lupin had thought that Dumbledore would just leave him alone. That somehow he’d be able to look after a seriously injured, and by the look of it seriously traumatised, man. A man who hated him. And that, somehow, Dumbledore wouldn’t just drop by at some point with another dirty job for Lupin.

What had he been thinking?

Lupin stood up and began to pace. There was no way Dumbledore would leave him alone. He’d refused to do jobs before. He’d said no. He’d even said “never again” and quit a couple of times. But it was no different from when he was at school. Dumbledore, just like the Marauders, knew that Lupin could be talked around, against his conscience and his common sense, with some well-applied pressure. So Dumbledore would come and find Snape in Lupin’s cottage. And then what? Lupin hadn’t thought that far ahead, clearly.

As he paced, Lupin realised that Snape was becoming more agitated. Every time Lupin paced past, he cringed away more. One hand, bruised and with at least one finger broken, was covering his face. He was making small whimpering sounds and muttering words that Lupin couldn’t make out.

Lupin stopped immediately and crouched by the bed.

“Severus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He reached out and took Snape’s hand. Snape pulled the hand away and bared his teeth. He looked almost feral, and Lupin pulled his hand away, suspecting Snape might bite him.

“Severus, we have to go away. It’s not safe here.”

Lupin could think of only one place to go. It wasn’t much more pleasant than the cell he’d rescued Snape from, but it was remote, unplottable and, most importantly, he was sure that Dumbledore did not know of its existence. Lupin quickly began packing up his meagre possessions before shrinking them and slipping them in to a pocket of his robe. He crouched beside Snape again and placed his hand on the rags where he thought his shoulder should be.

“I’m going to apparate us now, Severus. We are going somewhere safe. It’s going to be alright.”

Maybe that was true. He could always hope, after all.


	8. Chapter 8

The old Hywel farmhouse hadn’t been inhabited for more than fifty years. While the stone walls still stood, most of the roof was gone and the windows were long broken. Only one room was even remotely habitable, the old kitchen with its stone floor. In one corner there was a mattress with a few blankets, and that was about it.

But Lupin wasn’t really interested in the farmhouse itself. It was what lay beneath which had brought him there. The old farmhouse had a large and very robust cellar, and Lupin had been using it sporadically since he was a young child.

He levitated Snape carefully down the stairs to the cellar and laid him on the floor. There wasn’t much actually in the cellar, since Moony tended to destroy anything that smelled of human. But he brought the mattress and blankets down from the kitchen and did his best to make Snape more comfortable. He also found an old mug and offered him water, but Snape just stared his dead-eyed stare and refused to acknowledge him.

Lupin’s father had put in all manner of wards and made the old farmhouse unplottable. Although the land further down the valley was now owned and farmed by distant and thoroughly muggle relatives, the cellar, farmhouse and land immediately surrounding it were effectively Lupin’s. His secret refuge.

There was no food, and Lupin hadn’t had much to bring from the old cottage either. He unshrunk his possessions and being to rummage through his potions kit. He had quite a Polyjuice collection, although he admitted that most of what he had wasn’t going to be much use for a trip to buy groceries. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to go shopping disguised as Bellatrix Lestrange. On the other hand, there were a couple from random muggles he could use. He quickly drank some and headed off with a few pounds in the pocket of his jeans.

Lupin returned with bread, milk, cheese and apples. Along with the tea and selection of cans he’d brought from his cottage, that would keep them going. Or it would keep Lupin going – Snape showed no interest in the plate or mug Lupin had put in front of him.

Lupin wondered whether he had the healing skills to treat Snape’s injuries, let alone deal with the state of his mind. He wasn’t completely incompetent – Madame Pomphrey had recognised that Lupin was likely to have to look after himself once he left school and had made good use of the time he was stuck in the infirmary. She’d also given him several books, among them the very comprehensive guide _The Home Healer_. He flicked through it now, sitting on the cellar floor, drinking his tea and trying to work out where to start. The book covered spells and potions to treat all manner of injuries and illnesses, as well as more types of spell damage than Lupin imagined could have existed. But it also recommended consulting a qualified healer at every possible opportunity. Lupin briefly contemplated bringing Madame Pomprey, and then oblivating her, but quickly concluded that he’d had enough of dangerous, hare-brained Gryffindor schemes.

Holding open a page featuring a thorough diagnostic spell, Lupin moved over to kneel beside Snape.

“I’m going to cast a diagnostic spell now,” he said with more confidence than he felt.

A few minutes later, he couldn’t have even pretended to feel confident. The inventory of broken bones alone was terrifying. But the worst of it was the curses that Snape had been subjected to. Lupin didn’t even recognise half of them. And of the ones he did, _Crucio_ had appeared with sickening frequency. He thought about Alice and Frank Longbottom. He’d heard they were showing no signs of recovery, and there was doubt about whether they even would.

He put the book aside and decided that at least he could deal with the broken bones. He knew how to heal simple fractures and where the bones were too shattered to be repaired, he had Skele-gro in his potion kit.

Lupin started by vanishing Snape’s robe. The best bone-repair spells required wand contact, and he was also starting to be bothered by the smell. Thinking of what Carrow had said, he also vanished Snape’s underwear. He tried not to look too closely at just how damaged the body appeared and focused on Snape’s broken ribs. It would surely make him feel better if he could breathe without pain.

As he touched the wand to Snape’s chest, the spy tried to jerk away.

“It’s alright, steady. This will feel better soon.”

He placed a hand on Snape’s shoulder to keep him still. It didn’t help at all as Snape began to struggle. Lupin held him more firmly, but Snape began to fight back with more strength than Lupin expected.

“Ow, shit.”

Lupin gave a squeal of pain as Snape’s teeth clamped down on the side of his arm. He pulled away, but the teeth remained firm, and they hurt. He hadn’t realised that a human bite could be so painful.

“Let go, you mad bastard. I’m only trying to help.”

When Snape didn’t release him, Lupin dropped his wand and grabbed at Snape’s jaw. It probably wasn’t the best idea, putting his fingers close to those teeth, but it worked and Snape released him. He leaned his elbows on Snape’s arms, holding him down.

“Stop that, you need to be still while I do this.”

Snape suddenly stopped struggling. He closed his eyes and turned his face away. His lips were pressed tightly together but a single whimper escaped his throat.

The sound brought Lupin to his senses and he realised what he was doing. He’d hauled Snape out of a Death Eater prison, dumped him alone in his cottage for hours, apparated him across the country to another dark cellar, stripped him naked and, when Snape tried to defend himself, pinned him down.

Lupin pulled away quickly.

“Severus, I’m sorry. I… I’m not… I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He picked up a blanket, unfolded it and laid it over Snape. The frightened man tried to shrink away even from that, but he seemed to calm as he recognised that it was just a blanket and Lupin wasn’t going to touch him again. Lupin rubbed his face with his hands. What was he even doing? Why had he thought that hiding Snape away and trying to care for himself was a good idea?

And then, sitting on that cold cellar floor, Lupin thought of what Dumbledore had asked him to do. Even, he shuddered, the night before James and Lily’s funerals. He had no idea what Snape would have gone through as Dumbledore’s Death Eater spy, but Lupin was sure it had been no more pleasant. And, if he recovered, Lupin was quite sure that Snape would be asked to do it all over again. No, he wouldn't allow that to happen. Snape deserved a chance to be free.


	9. Chapter 9

Lupin realised that he was going to need to take much more care not to scare Snape. He really hadn’t thought about just how traumatised he might be. He’d expected physical injuries, but he hadn’t expected that Snape wouldn’t understand Lupin was trying to help him.

Lupin wanted to pace, but he remembered how that had alarmed Snape earlier. He made himself another cup of tea, grabbed _The Home Healer_ and sat down to think. Really think. It was time to make a _proper_ plan.

Snape’s broken nose, ribs and some of the broken fingers were fresh. They could be quickly fixed with the right spell and minimal wand contact. Even better, it was a spell he knew already and had used. On himself anyway. There were also a couple of broken bones that had started to heal crooked, and, according to the book, there was a good spell for that too. But his knees and right hand were completely shattered, and the only way to deal with those injuries was to vanish the bones and regrow them. Vanishing the bones was fine, but Lupin doubted he could get Snape to drink a potion without scaring him further. The bruising and soft tissue injuries were also tricky, as they required a potion or salve, neither of which Lupin wanted to try. But of the physical injuries, what worried Lupin most was the internal bleeding. He couldn’t work out the full extent, but it seemed like Carrow had just kicked Snape’s body over and over again until he’d exhausted his rage. According to his book, the best treatment, apart from taking him to St Mungo’s to be treated by someone competent, was a potion, something which Lupin thought he could make quite easily with ingredients in his kit. But then he’d have to get Snape to drink it.

Of all the injuries, the internal bleeding was the one most likely to become life threatening. The fact that he was still alive suggested it wasn't catastrophic, but he could still bleed to death. It might not be worth frightening Snape more to treat his broken bones and bruises, but he’d do it if it was necessary to save his life. He’d start the potion for internal bleeding, treat the easier broken bones, then try and get Snape to drink the potion. Either he’d be more cooperative when he was in less pain, or he’d be stronger and better able to fight Lupin off. He’d just have to try it and see.

Lupin pulled out his cauldron and began to prepare the ingredients. He’d never enjoyed potion making the way Snape seemed to at school, but there was something calming in the repetitive actions of chopping and slicing, and in knowing he was making something useful. When the potion was a sickly shade of pink and boiling steadily, he picked up his wand and moved to kneel beside Snape.

“Severus, I need to touch you with my wand to heal your broken bones. You need to keep still.”

Snape had clearly decided that ignoring Lupin was the safest thing to do. He lay on the mattress, staring his vacant stare, until Lupin touched his nose with his wand. Then he screwed his eyes closed and clenched his jaw, but didn’t make a sound as Lupin moved from his nose, to his hand, to his ribs.

When Lupin had finished, he returned to the potion, adding the final ingredients and turning off the heat. He poured some out into a mug to cool and returned to the broken bones, this time the partially healed fracture in right leg. He folded up the blanket to reach the leg and began the incantation. Although the book said it would be painful while the bone rebroke and repaired itself, Snape didn’t make a sound.

When Lupin had finished with the easier broken bones, Lupin could see that some of the tension had left Snape’s body. His breathing, in particular, sounded easier.

“Severus, you need to drink this potion now. It will treat the internal bleeding.”

He held the mug to Snape’s lips, hoping against hope for some cooperation. He didn’t get it. Snape pressed his lips together and pulled his head away.

“Come on Severus. It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Lupin decided to try calming him as he would a child or an animal.

“Shh now,” he said softly, placing a hand on his brow and pushing back a few strands of hair. “It’s okay.”

That was a mistake. Snape jerked his head backwards and up, and closed his mouth around Lupin’s hand. Lupin dropped the mug and spilled the potion as he pulled away, cursing. He took a deep breath and managed to stop himself from yelling at Snape. That would only make things worse.

He vanished the spilled potion and poured some more into the mug. He sat watching Snape’s face, the lips now twisted into a sneer. Was it possible to reason with him? Or should Lupin just use an immobilising charm and force him to drink the potion. He watched the potion as he swirled it around in the mug, waiting for it to cool.

“I’m not stupid, you know.”

Lupin jerked his head up in surprise. The voice was hoarse, but unmistakably Snape’s. He even managed to sound rather condescending.

“Severus? What do you mean?”

Snape still wore the same empty look in his eyes, but he gave a small and slightly irritated sigh.

“I’m a brewer. I know the smell of Polyjuice. I don’t know which one of you it is, but I know damned well you aren’t Remus Lupin. If you were going to pretend to rescue me, I’d have thought you could manage someone more convincing than him. Honestly, which of you incompetent idiots suggested Lupin?”

Lupin put the potion down and gave a long sigh. Well, that did explain some of Snape’s fearfulness and lack of cooperation. But how in Merlin’s name was he going to convince Snape that he really was Remus Lupin?


	10. Chapter 10

“Severus…”

Lupin paused. When he thought back over his actions and considered how they must have seemed to Snape, thinking Lupin was a disguised Death Eater… no wonder he’d been hostile. Even though he hid it well, he must have been so frightened. Lupin had the very unhelpful urge to try and hug Snape, to draw him into his arms and tell him he would make it all better.

It was a stupid idea, but then Lupin seemed to be having a lot of those. 

“Severus, you’re right, partly. You’re right about the Polyjuice. But I am really Remus.”

Snape’s expression didn’t move.

“I used the Polyjuice to disguise myself as Lucius Malfoy, in order to get into the celler where you were being held. And then later I used it to disguise myself when I went out to get some food.”

“You’re trying to convince me you went shopping for food disguised as Lucius Malfoy? You’re Goyle, aren’t you? Nobody else is _that_ stupid.”

Snape’s voice took on a defiant tone. Lupin thought of him spitting at Carrow after Carrow had put him under Cruciatus and then broken his nose. Snape was an incredibly frustrating man, but Lupin couldn’t help admiring him.

“The Polyjuice I used to go shopping was from a muggle I bumped into in the street in Newcastle. It’s a fairly low grade, only lasts an hour or two,” Lupin said. “I have a… an extensive Polyjuice collection. Dumbledore has me go undercover… _had_ me go undercover. I’m not doing that any more.”

“And you’ve told him that? And he won’t come back and put pressure on you? Really?”

Lupin was briefly silenced by Snape’s words.

“He doesn’t know where I am,” he said finally. “Does that mean you believe me?”

Snape didn’t answer. Lupin sat quietly, knowing what the silence meant, wondering what he could possibly say.

“In sixth year…” Lupin began, his voice hesitant. He really didn’t want to bring this up, but he had to convince Snape somehow.

“In sixth year, Sirius told you to follow me to the Shrieking Shack. You saw me in my werewolf form. I nearly killed you, but James rescued you. Dumbledore gave Sirius detention and told you to say nothing to anyone. You were so angry about it.”

“And who knows about this, Lupin? Or should I say, Nott?”

Lupin sighed.

“I told nobody, Severus. Who did you tell?”

“I’m not asking who you told,” Snape said slowly, as if Lupin was very young, or very stupid. “I’m asking you who knows.”

“You, me, Dumbledore. James… S… Sirius…”

Lupin let his voice trail away. Sirius. He could have told anyone. He could have told Voldemort himself. Lupin squashed down the ache that welled up inside him.

“Do you remember my wand, Severus?”

Snape said nothing. The dead-eyed stare was still there. Even when he’d been speaking to Lupin, it hadn’t shifted.

“Do you? Do you remember what sort of wand I had? Unicorn hair core, cypress wood, 10 ¼ inches?”

Snape remained silent.

“Severus, here.”

Lupin turned his wand around and offered the handle to Snape, holding it close to his now-healed left hand. The hand didn’t move. Nor did those unnaturally blank eyes. Lupin moved the wand up and held it close to Snape’s face. The eyes remained staring directly ahead, fixed on nothing.

Lupin realised, with a sick feeling starting in his stomach, that the reason the eyes appeared so dead is that they never moved. He turned his wand back around and silently conjured a ball of bright light at the tip. The black pupils remained wide open. He dimmed the light and moved the wand tip from side to side. There was no effort to follow the movement of the wand.

“Severus,” Lupin said, in a very gentle tone, “can you see me? Can you see anything at all?”

Snape closed his lids over the useless eyes and said nothing. His lack of denial and the tear that forced its way out between the black lashes told Lupin all he needed to know. Severus Snape had been blinded.


	11. Chapter 11

Lupin knelt beside Snape, not moving, not speaking. His brain was running in frantic circles. What had they done to him? It must have been one of the curses he didn’t recognise. Did Snape know how they had done it? Could he find it in one of his books? Was it reversible? Could he cure it if he didn’t know what had caused it? Then he realised that kneeling silently still beside a blind man, one who still believed him to be the enemy, probably wasn’t helping.

“Severus, I’m so sorry. I… I realise I must have scared you a lot. I didn’t know you couldn’t see me.”

Snape didn’t make a sound. His whole body was so tense he was shaking slightly.

“Severus, I’m going to touch your left hand now.”

Snape drew away.

“Don’t touch me, Yaxley.”

Lupin shook his head. Pointlessly, since Snape couldn’t see it.

“You’re just naming random Death Eaters and hoping I react when you say a particular name, aren’t you Severus?”

Snape curled his lip slightly.

“Not _random_ Death Eaters. I know you aren’t Lucius, he wouldn’t have been so stupid as to let me smell the Polyjuice.”

Lupin admired the sarcastic tone in Snape’s voice. Even in such a desperate situation, broken, blinded and facing death, he remained defiant. Unlike Lupin, who’d been nearly suicidal over the loss of his friends, and responded by getting drunk and giving up. It made him want to be a stronger and better man.

Lupin reached out and grasped Snape’s left hand, carefully making sure he didn’t get close to his face. He could still see the teeth marks where Snape had bitten his hand, and the bite mark on his arm was turning purple. He carefully placed the end of the wand into Snape’s palm and curled his fingers around it.

“My wand, Severus, 10 ¼ inch cypress with a unicorn hair core. Please don’t use it to hurt me. I’m trusting you here.”

He moved his hand away and watched as Snape’s fingers tightened around the wand. He gave a few small movements and then, without warning, jabbed it at Lupin’s face.

“Ow, that was my nose.”

“I was aiming for your eye.”

For a moment, Lupin thought that Snape was attempting humour, but the look on his face said otherwise.

“Why my eye?”

After a long pause, Snape answered him.

“There’s a spell I can use… I can’t use leglimency, since…”

Snape’s lips pressed together for a moment. Lupin suddenly understood why they had blinded Snape. He’d heard the rumours about Snape’s extraordinary abilities with occlumency and leglimency. But he couldn’t see into their minds if he was blind.

“The spell would tell me if you are telling the truth or lying.”

Lupin reached up and took the end of his wand with his fingers.

“Which eye?” he asked. “And where exactly? Do you want my eyes closed?”

“Either eye, closed, wand gently on the lid.”

Lupin placed the wand and Snape began to ask questions in a toneless voice.

“What is my name?”

“Your name?” Remus asked, confused.

“My name.”

“Severus Snape.”

“What house was I in at school?”

“Slytherin.”

“Who was my head of house?”

“Horace Slughorn.”

“And what is your name?”

“Remus Lupin.”

The questions went on. Lupin supported Snape’s arm as his hand began to shake.

“Why did you rescue me?”

“Dumbledore sent me. He… he asked me to rescue you if I could and… kill you if I couldn’t.”

“How?”

Lupin told him everything. It sounded even more insane when he said it out loud.

“What would you have done if Dumbledore had made you take Sober-up before he viewed your memories.”

Lupin hesitated.

“Hope?” he replied, finally.

Snape dropped the wand and Lupin realised just how pale his face was. He skin had taken on a waxy tone and his breathing had become laboured.

“Severus? Severus, are you alright?”

Lupin reached for the mug of potion, realising that even if Snape still didn’t believe it was him, he probably didn’t have the strength to fight. He slid a hand under Snape’s head, lifting it enough for him to drink the potion without choking. A little of the pink liquid dribbled down the side of his face, but most of it went down. Lupin laid his head back and began rummaging through his medical kit for a blood-replenishing potion. He managed to get Snape to drink that as well, then sat back to hope he’d done enough.


	12. Chapter 12

Lupin took the opportunity of Snape’s unconsciousness to begin preparing potions for his treatment. He now had some hope that he might be able to get the spy to take them, and that maybe he would even tolerate the bruise salve. He had feared that Snape had been driven mad with pain and terror but, while injured and afraid, Snape seemed remarkably lucid. If anything nothing else, Snape’s defiance and disdain reassured Lupin.

What worried him, though, was what Snape hadn’t said. The diagnostic spells had revealed numerous curses – the blinding spell must have been one of them. Was there anything else?

He had the Skele-gro out and a strong pain potion was bubbling in the cauldron. The Home Healer recommended it was used only under the supervision of a qualified healer, but then the damn book even suggested that Episkey should only be attempted under a healer’s supervision. He didn’t have a second cauldron, but he began to prepare the bruise salve in one of his cooking pots.

Snape return to consciousness was signalled by a quiet moan. Lupin moved over beside him

“Severus? It’s Remus. I’m right beside you. You’re safe.”

Snape's eyes snapped open and his breathing became faster. He reached out his left hand and grabbed at Lupin, catching a handful of Lupin's shirt.

“Severus?”

“Wand.”

“Do you want my wand again, Severus.”

“Yes, wand.”

Lupin was suddenly nervous. This could easily go horribly wrong. However he handed over the wand nonetheless, and as Snape’s fingers closed around it Lupin could see him relax. Some of the tension seemed to leave his body.

“You feel safer holding my wand, don’t you Severus.”

“I… yes."

Snape closed his eyes again, steadying his breathing.

"I don’t know what happened to mine. They took I suppose. It's probably destroyed now.”

“I can leave mine here beside you when I’m not using it. But I am using it a bit – I’ve been preparing some potions for you.”

“You’re making potions?”

Snape must have been feeling a bit better, as the sneering tone was back in his voice.

“I’m not completely useless Severus,” Lupin snapped back. “I got an E in my NEWTs. You just thought I was useless when we had to work together because I wasn’t up to your standard.”

“Nobody in that class was up to my standard.”

Lupin was relieved that Snape couldn’t see him smile.

“What have you made, Lupin?”

“I’ve made a pain potion – it’s a strong one, with a poppy base. And a salve for your bruises. Plus I have commercial Skele-gro in my kit. I can vanish the bones and give you the Skele-gro to regrow them when you are ready.”

“I don’t suppose I have a choice.”

Lupin paused. He hadn’t given Snape a choice in this. The injured spy had been in no condition to make judgements, so Lupin had done what seemed like a good idea at the time. He wasn’t quite so sure now.

“Severus, you remember what I told you? That I told Dumbledore I’d killed you?”

“I remember you explaing that particular mad Gryffindor idea, yes.”

“If you wanted to go back, Severus – it wasn’t your fault that I lied to him. I’m sure he wouldn’t blame you. If you did, you could be treated in St Mungo’s. It would be a lot more comfortable than here. You’d might actually get someone competent to treat your injuries.”

Snape was silent for a long time.

“I’m more likely to end up in Azkaban than St Mungo’s. Only Dumbledore knows I’m a spy. He might try to get me out and protect me… if he still had any further use for me. Otherwise…”

Lupin had the mad urge to hug Snape again. He looked so lost.

“Alright, Severus. Will you take the pain potion and Skele-gro, then? And let me vanish the shattered bones?”

Snape responded with a brief nod.


	13. Chapter 13

Lupin lifted Snape’s head gently and gave him the pain potion.

“Oh, Merlin, that’s good stuff,” Snape said, as he closed his eyes, “you really aren’t incompetent, are you?”

Lupin laid his head back down, noticing that the tension seemed to have gone from Snape’s body.

“But how did you make it?” Snape went on. “Isn’t it made from tincture of opium? That’s on the Restricted Register. What’s a good boy like you doing with that?”

It was not a question Lupin wanted to answer. Snape was right. He shouldn’t have the tincture of opium. He knew he was running a risk, since the potions it was used in were all addictive. But he used them only once a month, and so far he had been alright. 

“What else is in the potion? I’m sure I could taste dragon blood. And fluxweed. Or maybe one of the American species of tansy mustard. They are hard to tell apart. There’s no flobberworm mucous in it, the texture’s too liquid.”

Lupin frowned at Snape’s unexpected verbosity. He suspected that this was what the healing book had been referring to. Many of the stronger pain potions had interesting side effects. Still, it was doing the job. Snape was clearly much more confortable and Lupin was getting through the spellwork to vanish the bones in his right hand and knees.

“What sort of cauldron do you have? How do you do your measuring? What do you use to stir? Can I see your stirring rods?”

“In a moment, Severus. I’m working on the damaged bones right now. After that, I’ll give you the Skele-gro. Then I’ll show you the stirring rods.”

“Oh, that’s funny, Lupin. I just realised what I said. Can I see your stirring rods. But I can’t see.”

Lupin glanced up from where he was crouched over Snape’s knees. Snape actually appeared amused at his blindness. It might be a good time to question him.

“Severus, do you know what happened to your eyes? It seems like it might have been a curse.”

“Oh, that was one of MacNair’s. He’s an expert in spells which cause pain and suffering. I’m pretty sure some of them would be Unforgivable if the Ministry knew they actually existed. He used a whole lot of them on me… no idea what half of them were.”

Snape’s voice lost a little of the cheerful tone. The potion wasn’t powerful enough to erase all of that suffering.

“Do you know if the spell is reversible? If your sight can be restored?”

Snape shook his head.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember the incantation. There were so many and it was one he’d invented himself. I… it would be nice to see again.”

Lupin took the vial of Skele-gro and gave some to Snape.

“Stirring rods now? Please, Lupin?”

Lupin picked up one of the rods and placed it in Snape’s left hand.

“Severus, I’ve made a bruise salve as well. Would you mind it if I applied it? There’s a lot of bruising and you would feel better if it was healed.”

Snape ignored him, focusing entirely on the stirring rod. He ran his fingers over the runes engraved on the handle.

“This is a nice rod. Where did you get it?”

“It was my father’s. Severus, did you hear what I said? About the bruise salve?”

“Yes, yes, alright. Do you have any more.”

Lupin handed him another rod and began applying the salve to his arm. When Snape didn’t react badly, he moved up to his shoulder, and then began applying the salve to his face.

“You’re good at this, you know, Lupin. You’ve got good hands. Gentle, but not weak. Feels nice.”

Lupin didn’t respond. He was starting to think that Snape would come to his senses at some point, and then wouldn’t be happy. He pulled out the last of his metal stirring rods and handed it over.

“I have a couple of glass stirring rods as well, but they are just like any other glass stirring rods. I’ve got a nice mortar and pestle though. It belonged to my great grandfather originally, and then my grandmother. She gave it to me when I passed my OWLS.”

“Can I… hold it?”

“Yes, when I’ve finished with the bruise salve. I’m going to move to your lower body now. There were some bad bruises on your hips.”

Lupin had tried hard not to look when he’d removed Snape’s clothes, but he’d also noticed some nasty bruising around his scrotum. He wasn’t sure that Snape would agree to him applying salve there though. He folded back the blanket and began to smooth the salve over the purple skin on his hip. He moved in closer to Snape’s groin.

“Severus, there’s some quite bad bruising, um… on your… testicles. I’m not sure whether I should put some of the salve on that.”

“It’s helping. You should do it. I don’t mind, since it’s you doing it.”

Lupin ignored the comment and carefully applied a little of the salve.

“You know, Lupin, I always thought you were attractive when we were at school. I like tall men, and you had that brooding look too. And that sexy smile, like you were laughing at a private joke. But you could do with losing that awful moustache you started growing a year or so back.”

Snape was definitely going to regret this when he came to his senses.


	14. Chapter 14

Lupin hastily finished applying the salve to Snape’s scrotum and moved his hand away. There were bruises all down his legs. He wondered about the wisdom of applying the salve to his thighs after Snape’s comments, but the bruises were horrible.

“Severus, there are bruises on your thighs. I’m going to put some salve on them now.”

He dipped his fingers back in the salve, then started on Snape’s right thigh, stroking his fingers lightly over the skin. Snape gave a slight moan.

“I’m not hurting you, am I, Severus?”

“Oh, no. There’s no pain at all. It feels lovely. Really good.”

He moved his hips slightly and moaned again. Lupin glanced up and saw, to his horror, that Snape was half hard and was lazily stroking his penis.

“Severus, can you stop that please? You’ve had a very strong pain potion, and when it wears off you will be really embarrassed.”

“But it feels so good. Sooo good.”

Lupin removed his hands from Snape’s thigh and hastily wiped the salve from his fingers.

“Here, Severus.”

He picked up the mortar and pestle, and placed them beside Snape’s left hand. Hopefully he could get him back to discussing brewing equipment.

“This is my mortar and pestle. It’s Wedgewood biscuit porcelain, more than 100 years old. What sort of potion-making equipment do you have, Severus?”

“I don’t have a pestle as nice as this. Very smooth. Nice and big.”

Snape began to run the pestle over his belly.

“Mmm, that’s good.”

Lupin tried not to look. Snape slid the pestle down his abdomen and pressed it between his thighs, rubbing up and down.

“Do you have any lube? I’d like this up my arse.”

“Severus, no!”

Lupin grabbed the pestle with both hands and prised it from Snape’s fingers.

“Severus, that belonged to my grandmother!”

“You’re mean.”

Snape pouted, actually pouted, then returned to running his hand over his now-rigid erection, brushing his thumb over the tip. Lupin tried very hard to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

“How about your prick up my arse then? Bet you’ve got a lovely cock, Lupin. Bet you’re huge, big strapping lad like you.

Lupin was horrified, but unfortunately his body had an entirely different reaction. He was suddenly grateful for Snape’s blindness, as the jeans he wore were failing to hide his interest.

“Severus, stop it,” he snapped. “You need to stop talking and acting like this. It’s… it’s…”

“Oh, that’s right, you and your little friends never did like queers, did you? Always on at me, weren’t they. Used to call me a filthy Slytherin faggot. Poofter. Cocksucker.”

Snape’s tone had turned nasty.

“Saying I sucked Slytherin cock and liked it up the arse from half the house. Black hated that I was friends with his brother. Thought he’d be corrupted. As if Regulus needed any help in getting corrupted. Although he’d never look at the likes of me even if he had been queer. I was the ugly, greasy git, wasn’t I? I never mattered. I’d see you sometimes, looking guilty, but you never said anything, did you? You were a coward. You never cared enough to stop them, to help me. Don’t know why you’re bothering now.”

Lupin froze. I was something he wished he could forget. James, Sirius and Peter had always been making comments like that, and Sirius hated his brother being in Slytherin, where he was sure he’d be corrupted by into homosexuality. Lupin felt his eyes begin to burn with tears and panic build up inside him.

“I… I need to… um… get some water.”

He grabbed the bucket and fled the cellar, pausing only to banish the remaining pain potion from the cauldron. He was never, ever, ever making that potion again.


	15. Chapter 15

By the time Lupin had reached the old farmhouse kitchen, tears were running down his face. He dropped the bucket and sank to the floor, covering his face with his hands. How was it that James, Lily and Peter were dead, and the most worthless of the Marauders still alive. Sirius Black, a traitor to the Order and to his friends. And Remus Lupin.

As if being a werewolf wasn’t bad enough. They would have despised him if they knew the truth. It was true that they had tolerated him being a werewolf, but then they didn’t mock other students for possibly being werewolves, did they? Didn’t use _werewolf_ or _lycanthrope_ as the worst possible insult a boy could be called.

Snape was right. Lupin was a coward. What if he’d defended Snape, tried to stop them bullying him, and then they’d realised he was… like that too? He’d have lost the only friends he’d even had. He just couldn’t have handled that. He’d proved that, hadn’t he? He’d lost them now and he was a complete mess. Pathetic. Useless.

He was sobbing now, curled on the cold stones, wishing he’d never had the stupid, stupid idea to try and help Snape. Wishing he could go back and run his life over so his didn’t make so many awful mistakes and mess everything up. Wishing that he’d died instead of James, Lily and Peter.

It was a long time before he felt calm enough to fill the bucket with water and walk back into the cellar. Snape had pulled the blanket over himself and was curled on his side, his back to Lupin.

“Would you like some water, Severus?”

Snape was silent.

“What about a cup of tea? Or something to eat?”

Snape said nothing. Lupin hoped that he was asleep, but something about the tension in his shoulders suggested that he wasn’t.

“Severus, are you awake?”

Lupin leaned over and cautiously placed his hand on Snape’s shoulder. Snape flinched.

“Severus, are you alright?”

The sightless eyes were wide open and Lupin could feel trembling under his hand.

“You left me alone,” Snape whispered, in a voice that was almost like a child’s.

This wasn't what Lupin has expected. He'd expected Snape to be humiliated and hostile, and that he would lash out, as he had at school. Instead, he simply seemed folorn.

“I’m sorry, Severus, were you afraid?”

Snape said nothing.

“Do you think you could eat something, Severus? I don’t think you’ve had anything for a while.”

Silence.

“What about a drink? A cup of tea? Water? You need to drink something or you’ll get dehydrated.”

More silence.

“Severus… I’m sorry about the potion. I didn’t know it would have an effect like that. It just seemed like a good one to use – it was fast to make and strong. I just wanted to take some of the pain away. I’m sorry.”

Snape spoke, a whisper again. Lupin struggled to hear what he was saying.

“Severus? I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear that.”

“The things I… that the potion made me say. I never… I’m not… I’m not like that. It was the potion.”

“I know, Severus.”

Lupin wasn’t sure he believed him. There had been a ring of truth to some of the things he said. On the other hand, some of it was just bizarre. Lupin remembered again his earlier comment about all the curses that MacNair had inflicted. Perhaps it was connected to that – maybe MacNair had cursed him with unnatural desires. That would make sense – at least it made more sense than Snape harbouring a secret desire for Remus Lupin.

He couldn’t bring himself to say it though. He wasn’t ready for that conversation. They’d both been embarrassed enough.

“How about I make you a cup of tea? And you should eat something, I think. I’m good at cheese on toast.”

Hesitantly, Snape nodded. Lupin got up and made two mugs of tea. He cast a charm over the cheese and bread.

“Do you think you could sit up, Severus?”

Snape began to struggle upright. Lupin put down the tea and helped him to sit up.

“Here, Severus.”

He placed the mug in Snape’s left hand, watching carefully until he was sure Snape wasn’t going to spill it. He sat down on the mattress beside him and drank his own tea. When the cheese on toast was ready, he gave a piece to Snape and bit into his own. The taste of food reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything since he’d rescued Snape. No wonder he was feeling a bit ragged. They’d both feel better with some food inside them. And then maybe they could get some sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

Lupin’s hope of a good long sleep was not to be. He’d eaten his way through a substantial quantity of cheese on toast and a couple of apples, and watched Snape pick at his food. Then he’d transfigured a spare blanket into a second mattress and curled up to sleep. It wasn’t actually night yet, but he hadn’t slept the previous night, and it was a dark cellar, so he couldn’t really tell. He’d been asleep within minutes.

He didn’t stay asleep though.

He wasn’t sure what the sound that woke him was at first. It sounded almost like an animal. He’d woken a few times on some remote moor being sniffed by some creature or other. Then he realised where he was, and what he’d done, and his brain went onto instant alert. He grabbed his wand then went still in the darkness, analysing every sound – the distance, the direction, the pitch, the volume.

The sound was close, and coming from Snape’s direction. High and breathy, but muffled, like someone was trying to hide it. Silently, Lupin sat upright and, ready to take on an attacker, lightened the cellar.

There was nobody there but Snape, huddled under his blanket, tears running from his eyes, trying to suppress the sounds of his distress. His breath was coming in short gasps and his hands were over his mouth. Every now and again, he whimpered.

“Severus,” Lupin whispered.

Snape froze, attempting to hold his breath and be silent.

“Severus, it’s Remus. Are you alright?”

A stupid question, of course, but he had to say something, had to let Snape know that he was there.

“Severus, you’re safe here, remember.”

Lupin crawled across the cellar floor, blanket still around him. He crouched down next to Snape and slipped his arm around his shoulders.

“What’s the matter, Severus?”

Another stupid question. Snape responded by grabbing at Lupin, clutching a handful of blanket and pulling it to his face.

“I’m here, Severus. I won’t let anyone hurt you now. It’s alright.”

Lupin slid down beside Snape and put both arms around him, pulling him close. He murmured soft, meaningless reassurances and held Snape until he calmed. It seemed to take a long time. When Snape had stopped crying and his body relaxed, Lupin crawled back to his own mattress. After a while, he heard Snape’s breathing become slow and even, but it was a long time before Lupin could sleep himself.

In the morning, Lupin said nothing to Snape about what had happened in the night. It was one of many things he didn’t mention. He didn’t mention that when he returned to the cellar after using the toilet and fetching water, Snape was frozen with fear. He didn’t mention the damp puddle he found on the mattress under Snape’s thighs (why had it not occurred to him that Snape might need the toilet too – he really was the world’s most incompetent healer). He didn’t mention the way that Snape flinched every time there was even a moderately loud noise. He certainly didn’t mention the previous day’s incident with the pain potion.

Snape was a worryingly compliant patient. When Lupin asked if he wanted something to eat or drink, Snape said nothing, but when Lupin actually put a plate or cup in his hands, he ate and drank without complaint. He took the potions Lupin gave him, at least once Lupin told him what they were – blood replenishers, bruise healing potions, mild pain potions (mild, without side-effects), bone strengthening potions for his newly grown hand and knees, nutritional potions.

By the end of the day, he could sit up without assistance. When Lupin made dinner – cheese on toast again – Snape pushed himself up and sat on the mattress. He looked pale and unsteady, but ate his dinner and drank tea without spilling it.

After dinner, he spoke for the first time in some hours.

“Lupin, I appear to have no clothes.”

“Oh. Oh, yes, I’m sorry, your clothes were in an awful state. I vanished them I’m afraid. I can give you something of mine to wear.”

Snape didn’t even complain at wearing Lupin’s clothes, which were far too big for him. Lupin was starting to worry. No complaints, no sarcasm. 

Lupin began to point out obvious facts, like the coldness of the cellar and the fact that he could hear rain through the small ventilation windows. Still Snape said nothing. When the time came to sleep, he lay down with the blanket pulled around him and closed his eyes.

In the middle of the night though, he woke Lupin again. This time he was having a nightmare, begging, “no, no, please, no” and then screaming and screaming until Lupin held him and told him he was safe. When he was finally calm, he spoke.

“You didn’t think this through, did you Lupin?”

“Think what through, Severus?”

“Rescuing me. Bringing me here. You had no idea what you were doing.”

Lupin let his breath out slowly. He couldn’t disagree.

“No, I didn’t, Severus. My plan went as far as getting you to safety. After that, I admit I didn’t really think about what would happen.”

“Maybe it would have been better if you had killed me.”

“Severus, no.”

Lupin pushed himself up on one elbow, looking at Snape’s dead eyes and tear-stained face. He realised that while he frequently found himself wishing that he himself had died, he couldn’t bear the thought of Snape dying in that lonely, foul cell.

“I… I know it’s… it seems hopeless right now… but…”

Lupin struggled to think of what to say. It probably wouldn’t help to point out that the only purpose Lupin had in life right now was looking after the injured spy.

“Severus… sometimes things seem hopeless but then something changes and it gets better.”

“Like what?”

“Well… we don’t know whether or not that curse MacNair used is reversible. It might turn out that there’s an easy counter-curse. That would make a real difference, wouldn’t it?”

Snape let out a long breath before responding.

“Your Gryffindor optimism really is incessant, isn’t it?”

Snape’s voice carried the faintest note of scorn and his hand gripped Lupin’s arm a bit more firmly. Unseen by Snape’s sightless eyes, the werewolf smiled.


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning, with assistance, Snape could stand. After walking a few steps, leaning heavily on Lupin, he was pale and shaking, but he was very determined. It reassured Lupin that he seemed to want to recover but, just in case, he moved anything remotely dangerous well out of the way.

Snape seemed to feel better once he could move around. He showed this by commenting on Lupin’s limited cooking skills (“do you know how to make _anything_ other than cheese on toast?”), tendency to state the obvious (“I’m blind, Lupin, not stupid”), brewing (“your chopping technique on that knotgrass is so bad that a blind man can tell”) or in fact anything that Lupin said or did. He complained so much about Lupin’s tea-making skills that Lupin gave him the job of doing it himself. This turned out to be a good strategy, as it was a challenge to do sightless, but not impossible with the help of Lupin’s wand.

There was still quite a bit which Lupin didn’t mention. When he told Snape he was going upstairs, Snape insisted on coming with him. Snape didn’t want to be left alone at all and even became anxious when Lupin sat quietly without speaking to him for any length of time. On the other hand, when Lupin tripped over the water bucket, which sent water across the floor and caused him to curse loudly, Snape sat with his arms around his knees and began to hyperventilate. And that night, as with the two previous nights, his crying woke Lupin and he didn’t calm until Lupin held him. Lupin never commented on any of it.

Lupin, of course, didn’t mention the coming full moon. After a couple of days, Snape asked about the moon phase. Not “when is the full moon”, not “when are you going to turn into a vicious, foul beast?”, but an offhand “what is the moon phase at present, Lupin?” And Lupin had replied with an equally offhand “waxing gibbous, Severus”.

It presented a problem though. Lupin had used several months’ worth of ingredients in just a few days. Before the next full moon, five days away, he would need to stock up on on dragon’s blood, bloodwood bark, asclepias, haemanthus flowers, sanguinaria roots and sap of the Socotra dragon tree. And he’d have to make the potions, which were a couple of days work. It would mean leaving Snape for some hours, when the spy could barely cope when Lupin went to the toilet.

“Severus,” Lupin said cautiously, when Snape had just made them both a cup of tea, “I’m going to need to restock some of my potion ingredients soon.”

Snape was silent for a long time before responding.

“How soon?”

“In the next two or three days. I’m sorry, Severus.”

“That’s fine. You don’t need to stay here with me.”

Clearly, Lupin did, but he didn’t correct Snape.

“While I’m out, I could get a few things you needed, if that helped. Some clothes. And you really need a new wand. What did you have?”

“You can’t just go and buy a new wand like that, Lupin. Were you seriously planning to waltz into Ollivander’s and say ‘I’d like a new red oak wand with a phoenix feather core’? That might be your stupidest plan yet.”

“I wouldn’t go to Ollivander’s. And I probably can’t get the same sort of wand. But it still helps to know.”

“Where else would you get a wand?”

Lupin paused, considering how much he should tell Snape about his questionable dealings.

“There’s a member of the Order who is quite good at… procuring various items. Discreetly. I work with him quite a bit.”

“If he’s in the Order, won’t he tell Dumbledore?”

“Not if he’s oblivated.”

Snape looked shocked. More shocked than a former Death Eater had any right to. As if he’d never done anything like that.

“What? Dumbledore does it all the time. Dung’s brain is a bit scrambled from it, I admit. But he’s fine.”

Snape said nothing and Lupin sat sipping his tea, wondering if Snape was judging him.

“I think I have a better plan, Lupin.”

“Oh?”

“I have some… supplies, put aside in case I had to disappear quickly. There’s a spare wand with them.”

“You have a spare wand?”

Snape shook his head.

“It belonged to Evan Rosier. His parents gave me some of his things after… he was killed, among them his wand. It’s English oak with a unicorn hair core, so it’s never been very cooperative with anyone other than Evan, but it knows me and will work for me.”

“He was a good friend of yours? I remember you being quite close at school.”

Snape raised his cup to his lips and swallowed a large mouthful of tea. He didn’t answer Lupin for some time.

“When my father died, my mother went to her family and begged them to take her back. They agreed to it, but only if she’d put her shameful mistake behind her completely. Her muggle husband was dead, which meant the only barrier was her son.”

Snape’s voice dropped to little more than a whisper.

“She simply left the house and cut off all contact. I had… nowhere to go. I was friends with Evan and so the Rosiers took me in.”

Lupin was silent for a while before replying. In the time they’d spent together in the cellar, Snape had been vulnerable, and shown his vulnerability, many times. But he’d never before done so voluntarily.

“How old were you, Severus?”

“I was fifteen.”

“Oh. Oh Severus, that’s awful.”

“Really, Lupin, I hadn’t noticed.”

Lupin winced.

“Actually, Lupin, it wasn’t as bad as all that. My home hadn’t been the… happiest and the Rosiers were good to me. They weren’t wealthy, but the Malfoys paid for my school fees, which helped. I was alright.”

A small smile seemed to play on Snape’s lips for a moment.

“Of course, the Rosiers weren’t quite so happy when they caught Evan and me in bed together. They threw me out then, but I was eighteen, and anyway, Evan followed me.”

Lupin was staring in shock. Had Snape just said… what? He’d what?

“But… but Severus… you… you…”

“Have I shocked you, Lupin? Oh dear.”

“You said you weren’t like that.”

Snape frowned, confused.

“You know, when you said those things… with the potion… and then after… you said you weren’t like that…”

Snape smiled. He actually smiled. Even in his shock and confusion, some small part of Lupin noticed and was delighted.

“Oh, Lupin. You really are… so endearingly clueless. I meant that I’m not the sort of person who…”

For a moment he looked slightly embarrassed, before he went back to looking amused.

“Well… I’m not an exhibitionist, I wouldn’t carry on like that in front of someone, or make lewd suggestions or… you know. But I am… queer, or gay, or all those nasty words your friends called me.”

“Oh.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable, Lupin.”

Lupin shook his head, then blushed crimson, before realising that Snape couldn’t see.

“Not really, Severus.”

“I did have a huge crush on you at school, too.”

“What?”

“You really didn’t notice? I thought that’s why your friends were on at me so much. It’s certainly why Black nearly had you kill me.”

“What?”

“You really didn’t know?”

Lupin shook his head again before realising that was pointless.

“Severus, I’m sorry. I really did have no idea.”


	18. Chapter 18

Snape’s revelations became one more thing they didn’t mention as the two wizards concentrated all their attention on planning Lupin’s mission for supplies. Mostly they focused on how to find Snape’s emergency supplies, hidden in the attic of the now-derelict terrace house in Spinner’s End, or how to discreetly acquire and transport several panes of glass and assorted building supplies to return the farmhouse’s kitchen to a weathertight state.

But Lupin suspected that it would be Snape who had the real challenge. Quietly scrounging for supplies was an art with which Lupin was well-acquainted. On the other hand, he had no idea how Snape was going to survive several hours in the cellar alone.

When Lupin was ready to leave, Snape wished him good luck and even attempted a smile. His face was white, though, and he was already shaking. In Lupin’s threadbare robe, which was too big for him, he looked a rather pitiful figure. Lupin didn’t say that though. They were both pretending that Snape was fine.

When Lupin returned, Snape was huddled in the corner of the cellar. At first, he was even unwilling for Lupin to go near him, snarling like a trapped animal, as he had when Lupin had first rescued him. Lupin made tea and talked cheerfully to him until he seemed calmer, then approached cautiously, murmuring soothing words. When he was close enough, Lupin handed Rosier’s wand over. Snape relaxed then, and tears ran down his cheeks. Lupin sat and held him until he was calm, then set about unpacking his treasures.

“Merlin, Severus, you do have a lot here,” Lupin said as he helped Snape unpack the third chest.

“Slytherins _plan_ , Lupin. There was always a realistic chance I’d need to disappear at some stage. It’s a shame you lacked the same foresight.”

Lupin didn’t mention that he’d never had the money to squirrel away spare food, clothing, potion ingredients, cookware, brewing equipment and even books. Never mind a decent-sized stash of galleons.

“About half of it belonged to Evan,” Snape said, running his hands over the covers of the books, before hugging a copy of Advanced Potion Making to his chest. It was in rather better condition than the tatty old copy he’d carried everywhere at school. “His parents let me keep a lot of his things.”

“I thought they hated you. They threw you out.”

“They did throw me out, yes, but then… they didn’t want to lose their son. Blackthorn never really forgave me, he was always civil but never friendly. But Margaret and I got on quite well. She’s one of very few people who might actually be sorry I’m dead.”

Lupin was silent. It all sounded very _normal_. Much like the way the Potters had reacted to Lily, in fact. They didn’t particularly approve – no woman would have been good enough for their beloved son – but they included her in the family nonetheless. Lupin briefly wondered how his father would have reacted if he’d brought home a boyfriend, then pushed the thought away.

With Snape’s possessions, life in the cellar was suddenly much more pleasant. Lupin began repairing the kitchen windows, while Snape, never more than a few metres away from Lupin, attempted to repair some of the old farmhouse furniture. Lupin searched through the spellbooks and found a reading charm, which Snape could use to get the books to recite their contents out loud. Rosier’s wand was rather uncooperative, and while Lupin could, with his wand, reproduce the author’s voices, when Snape used the charm every book was recited in belligerent Glaswegian.

Lupin enlisted Snape’s help in preparing the potion ingredients before the full moon too. Even blind, his slicing, chopping and grinding was near-perfect. Snape obviously enjoyed it, far more than he enjoyed sanding down chairs. He had rather a lot to say on the subject too, suggesting changes to the recipe for the joint salve, criticising Lupin’s choice of restorative potion and being distinctly accusing when it came to the pain potion.

“Why on earth didn’t you make this potion for me, Lupin, instead of that bloody awful swill you tortured me with?”

“I… I’m sorry… it just… it takes six hours to brew and you have to watch it really carefully or it becomes explosive. I didn’t have time… I couldn’t…”

Snape let the matter drop. He turned to questioning Lupin about the apparently excessive quantity of blood replenisher that Lupin was preparing.

“What do you need that for? Are you planning to _maul_ someone, Lupin?”

His rather hostile tone, Lupin suspected, was born of anxiety.

“Only myself, Severus,” he replied softly. “Only myself.”

That seemed to silence Snape, who returned to grinding the bloodwood bark. Lupin thought about how many hours Snape would be alone at the full moon, and was silenced too. Tomorrow night was not going to be a pleasant experience for either of them.


	19. Chapter 19

Lupin came to his senses in a pool of blood. For a few moments he had no idea where he was or what had happened, and then the memories came back to him in a flood. The night had been hellish, one of his worst, as the wolf had smelled the strong human presence in the cellar and had also known that Snape was in the kitchen above. The wards had held, of course, and Moony had been safely contained. There had been no chance of him harming Snape, at least not physically. Lupin, on the other hand, was another matter.

He tried to concentrate on an inventory of his injuries. It was hard to know quite where to start – everything hurt, and more than usual. But something was bleeding badly, he really should figure out what that was first. It wouldn’t do to bleed to death before he could see how Snape had coped with his night alone. The wards would have muffled the sound, but Lupin doubted they had completely blocked Moony’s anguished howling or scratching and throwing himself at the door. He needed to get to Snape as soon as possible.

As Lupin gingerly felt his way down his arm, he felt a tingle of magic and realised that the wards had been lifted. He cursed, there was no way he wanted Snape down in the cellar. Not with the state it was in, not with the state he was in.

He heard hesitant steps as Snape began to walk down the cellar stairs, one hand against the wall for guidance. Lupin carefully lifted his pounding head. Snape looked better than he’d expected him to, although he was pale and puffy-eyed, he seemed calm. He was wearing a pair of pyjamas which had belonged to Rosier, as well as a warm jersey – also Rosier’s. Lupin had noticed he wore Rosier’s clothes more than his own. He had Rosier’s dressing gown over his arm.

“Severus, wait, don’t come down here.”

“Why not? What’s wrong?”

“Because…”

Because Moony had marked all over the cellar and had left an unpleasant surprise at the bottom of the stairs. Snape was on course to step on it, in his bare feet.

“It’s not very clean down here.”

“I can _smell_ that, Lupin. Don’t move, and I’ll scourgify the floor.”

Lupin didn’t have the energy to argue, and he really needed to focus on the bleeding wound which he had found halfway up his left arm. He held his right hand over it and began the wandless healing spell he used for the worst of his injuries. His right hand throbbed and his shoulder protested against the effort, but it was something Lupin had done for himself many times before. Although the Marauders were sometimes there during or after the full moon, they had their own lives too, and none of them were healers.

By the time the gash was closed, Snape was shuffling cautiously across the floor towards him.

“Lupin, where are you? Speak so I can find you.”

“I’m here, Severus.”

Snape dropped into a crawl and reached out his hand for Lupin. The hand made contact with his shoulder and Lupin gave a gasp of pain.

“Severus, please… please don’t.”

“At the risk of emulating your tendency to state the obvious, Lupin, you sound wretched.”

“I… I normally wait a bit before I say the passwords to remove the wards. There’s usually… a bit of healing to do first. I’m fine… I just–“ 

“Lupin, you are clearly _not_ fine.”

Snape said the incantation for the diagnostic spell – the same one that had been used on him little more than a week ago. How did Snape know healing magic? Then Lupin realised that he’d been going through Lupin’s healing books as he helped prepare the potions.

Snape’s tone was much gentler when he spoke again. His hand moved past Lupin’s shoulder and rested gently in the middle of his back.

“Do you normally do this to yourself, L… Remus?”

Lupin wanted to say no. He really did. But, while they might be lying to each other, and themselves, by omission, Lupin was reluctant to lie directly.

“Not usually quite this bad… but, yes.”

“Merlin, that’s awful.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.”

Snape gave a disbelieving snort.

“Who heals you?”

“I do, usually. When I was at school, Madame Pomphrey, but she taught me to look after myself.”

“So you just lie there healing yourself? Wandlessly.”

“If I’m on my own, I’ll do a bit wandless, then crawl out of the cellar, take the potions, do whatever needs a wand. If... I have… company, someone will help me up, but I still do my own healing.”

“Well then, let me help you. Remus.”

“I’m alright, Severus.”

“No, you aren’t.”

Lupin felt something soft touch him, and realised that Rosier’s dressing gown – his beautiful green velour dressing gown, which Snape adored – was being wrapped around Lupin’s filthy, bloody body.

“Severus…”

“Shh, now.”

“I’m dirty, Severus.”

“Really, Lupin, you have heard of cleaning spells, haven’t you? Very useful things. Able to remove all sorts of stains.”

As he felt Snape rubbing his back through the soft fabric, Lupin smiled through the pain, and gave up trying to argue.


	20. Chapter 20

Snape had helped him to his feet and then, the wounded leading the blind, they’d made it up the stairs and into the kitchen. Together they shuffled across the room to Lupin’s mattress, where Lupin sank down and lay panting for breath. The room was swimming around him and he closed his eyes until he heard the sound of a stopper being removed from a bottle.

Snape was holding the pain potion.

“I assume you want this one first.”

“No… not yet… I’ll… it makes me sleepy. Blood replenisher. I…”

Lupin noticed that the potion bottles were neatly lined up. Snape went straight to the correct bottle, removed the stopper then gave the potion a quick sniff. He poured some into a cup and held the cup out to Lupin, who took it with his left hand and drank. Lupin then dropped his head back down and closed his eyes again.

“What next… Remus?”

“General restorative draught. Then I need my wand.”

“The broken bones?”

Lupin sighed.

“You don’t have to do this, you know, Severus. I’m fine. I’m used to this.”

“I’m sure you are, Lupin, but since I have been a mostly cooperative patient for you, it’s only polite that you do the same for me.”

That was one way to look at it. But Lupin suspected that there was something more behind what Snape had said. Lupin’s bedding had been neatly arranged on the mattress, the potion bottles were lined up, his copy of The Home Healer lay open, there was even breakfast ready. Snape had clearly occupied himself by preparing to look after Lupin. And whatever he’d done, it had clearly worked to keep him in a better state than he’d been a few days earlier when Lupin had made his mission for supplies.

When he thought about it, there had been a subtle shift since that day. He suspected that it was mostly the wand, which gave Snape a little more independence. Having some of Rosier’s things seemed to help too, even though Lupin sometimes noticed him holding something and looking deeply sad. Lupin remembered the battle which had cost Moody his eye and part of his nose, and ached for how he’d felt at the time, relieved at another Death Eater being gone. Clearly, nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

“Thank you, Severus. It’s… it is nice to have some company after the full moon. I do tend to feel pretty miserable.”

He took and drank the restorative potion, and then accepted his wand. Slowly, he worked his way through the fractures on his right hand and arm, the result of Moony falling down the cellar stairs after he’d thrown himself at the door.

“What next?”

“I fix up any remaining wounds, put something on any bruises that are particularly bad and apply the joint salve. Then I take the pain potion and sleep for most of the day.”

Snape picked up the jar of bruise salve, left over from Lupin’s disastrous healing efforts with Snape.

“Let’s get this on your arm where it was broken. Merlin, this whole area’s a mess. How did you do this to yourself?”

“Fell down the stairs.”

For a moment, Snape didn’t respond, focusing on coating Lupin’s arm and shoulder with the salve.

“You remember, then, your time as a w… as Moony?”

“Yes.”

“But when you are Moony?”

“I don’t remember that I’m human. I’m not sure I remember anything. Just emotion. Frustration, rage, fear, desperation… I have no control…”

“I never thought how horrible it must be, Remus.”

Lupin didn’t answer. It was horrible, but it wasn’t something he wanted to talk, or think, about. Instead, he was thinking about the rather different Snape who had greeted him after moonset. Looking after him, being concerned, calling him Remus. It was a little odd, but it was a relief. He’d been dreading the effort of caring for an upset and traumatised Snape while he felt so ill.

“What do you use the joint salve for?”

Snape was holding the jar they had prepared the day before. It was an unnatural shade of green and smelled strongly of eucalyptus.

“Everything, really. It’s not just for joints, but all aching muscles, joints, strains, sprains, all that kind of thing. Just whatever hurts.”

“And everything hurts, I take it?” Snape said, gently feeling for then sliding one hand under Lupin’s foot. The other hand began to massage the oily green salve into the skin. Lupin gave a gasp.

“I’m not hurting you am I?”

“You… no. That’s okay. Not too firm though, everything’s quite tender.”

Snape began to rub circles on the balls of Lupin feet with his thumb, then moved on to the instep.

“You know… you don’t have to do this, Severus.”

“I know that,” Snape said, a hint of impatience creeping into his voice. “But I want to be useful. I want to do _something_. I’m sick of feeling like I’m useless and… you know. _Hysterical_.”

Snape spoke the word as if it had an unpleasant flavour. Lupin didn’t have to open his eyes to know there was a disdainful sneer on his face, disgust at his own vulnerability. But it was the first time either of them had directly mentioned… well, Lupin didn’t really know what to call it. Snape’s difficulty coping. Mentally. The healing books had very little to say on the subject. The Home Healer recommended dosing patients who exhibited “mental weakness and hysterics” with calming draughts and similar potions until they recovered, or sending them to St Mungos if they didn’t. However Lupin had not yet raised the subject of calming draughts.

“Severus, you’re not hysterical. You’re… you’ve… had a bad time and you are adjusting to… well, hopefully only temporarily… but, being blind.”

Snape said nothing, putting a little more salve on his fingers and moving from Lupin’s foot to his ankle. When Snape moved on to massaging his calf, Lupin spoke again.

“Have you considered whether… perhaps… there may be some potions that might help? Maybe a calming draught, Draught of Peace, or maybe Dreamless Sleep?”

Snape sighed. Lupin felt like sighing too, but for a different reason. It felt so good, having the salve rubbed in like that. He usually just did it himself, smearing it over whatever hurt the worst and then trying to get to sleep.

“I had considered… but Dreamless Sleep is addictive, I don’t know how long I’d need it for. And… I don’t feel… wouldn’t feel safe if I wasn’t fully alert.”

“Maybe just…” Lupin paused, wincing slightly as Snape moved on to his knee. It was already throbbing.

“Remus, are you alright?”

“Bit sore there, sorry… maybe just a calming draught before sleep, or something to make you a bit drowsy. Nothing strong.”

Snape finished on Lupin’s knee then moved to the other foot, repeating the process. Lupin wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved he hadn't moved further up the leg. Snape had gone silent now, signalling his unwillingness to discuss the issue further by focusing intently on applying the joint salve. His head was dropped forward and his long hair hung over his face. It wasn’t a handsome face, but Lupin realised he enjoyed watching it. Then he realised that he’d find the way that Snape was caressing his feet and legs quite erotic if he wasn’t feeling so ill.

Remembering his disastrous application of bruise salve, he tried to think of something else. As Snape moved on to massaging salve into his left hand – an action that felt even more intimate than the application to the feet and legs – he contemplated the change in Snape over the previous few days. When they were together, doing something, talking, he seemed fine. He’d become slightly less jumpy about noises and in the last couple of days he’d even tolerated Lupin being in a different room for a short time. He calmed down faster too, when he did get upset. But at night – or more specifically when he tried to sleep – things were as bad as ever. Snape was waking Lupin every night, often several times, with crying or screaming.

“Severus, it seems like you coped really well last night. I don’t mind admitting that I was a little concerned, but it seems like it’s all gone rather well.”

“I can hardly say it’s gone well for you,” Snape said, his fingers rubbing the salve onto Lupin’s aching shoulders. “Would it be helpful if you rolled over and I did your back too?”

Lupin barely hesitated before nodding and rolling over. He could never get the salve onto his back, and it _ached_.

“I suppose,” Snape said, “it feels better now that I have a wand. And, it wasn’t as bad as… when you aren’t there at all.”

“What?”

Lupin found that hard to believe. How could it help knowing that Lupin, in his werewolf form, was locked in the cellar?

“Well, I could hear you, and I knew it was you. And,” Snape said, an expression on his fact that Lupin couldn’t place, “I did think that if someone came, I would release the wards and set the… Moony on them.”

“Severus! But… that… but he’d… I’d… attack you too.”

“Remus, I did… back when I was at school… I put rather a lot of research into how to defend myself against a werewolf. It seemed prudent… well, it seemed a bit pointless after the fact, but… I suppose it made me feel a bit safer… you know.”

Unfortunately, Lupin did. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to pick open that particular wound.

“If it came to a choice between battling a Death Eater or battling a werewolf, I’d rather have the werewolf.”

Lupin wasn’t sure he liked the idea of being set on Death Eaters like an attack dog. But as Snape helped him roll over, and gave him the pain potion to drink, he decided that if it made Snape feel safer to think of him that way, he could live with it.


	21. Chapter 21

After the full moon, things were different between them. There was a subtle shift from Remus looking after Severus to… well, perhaps more like flatmates, two young men sharing a house, helping each other out. Except that Remus had lived in flats, and they weren’t quite this cooperative. This was more like working as a team.

Like a couple, said a little voice in the back of his mind that he tried to ignore. Just because Severus had admitted to liking him at some point years in the distant past… that meant nothing. Severus was missing Rosier, who he had clearly loved dearly. For Remus to be thinking of… no, that was stupid, impossible.

It made Remus almost guilty, that Rosier had been someone he considered the enemy. The things Severus had said about him, he sounded like a decent person, not just another vicious muggle-murdering fanatic like most of the Death Eaters that Remus had met. Remus could remember him from school – quiet, studious and obedient. His father had been notorious as one of the earliest supporters of Voldemort. It made sense that the son had followed the father.

Now that the kitchen was weathertight, Remus turned his attention to fixing up the bathroom. It would make a nice change to have a toilet that was more than just a bucket and a vanishing spell. He was used to washing out of a basin, but a casual mention of Moaning Myrtle had turned into a long discussion about the bathrooms at Hogwarts – what features they had, which was the best, and wouldn’t it be nice to have a proper bath or shower sometimes? That had sent them to search through all the books they owned – admittedly not many – to research plumbing spells.

“I don’t think we are going to find anything useful here,” Severus said, as he slammed _Practical Household Magic_ shut.

“There’s sure to be something in the Hogwarts library, but I don’t really want to turn up there.”

“Flourish and Bott’s will have something.”

Lupin began to protest. He’d seldom owned a new book in his life.

“Remus, I really, _really_ want a bath. A proper bath. It’s worth spending the money on a spellbook to do that. I’m pretty sure there is a Complete Guide to Sanitation Magic or something like that.”

Remus realised that the first objection he’d had was the cost of the book, not leaving Severus alone, and that it was actually Severus that suggested the trip.

“Alright, I’ll go to Diagon Alley. I’ll try Stashe and Squirrell first though. I can probably pick up a few more bits and pieces if you need them. Is there anything else you want?”

“Maybe some potion journals?”

Neither mentioned books on healing eyes, but Remus was sure that they were both thinking about it.

The visit to Stashe and Squirryll was rather unsuccessful. Or it was unsuccessful in that he he didn’t find anything on magical plumbing or curing spell-induced blindness. He still had a stack of back issues of _The Practical Potioneer_ , a rather tatty book on the treatment of spell-induced injuries which made reference to vision and might be useful and a couple of books on magical gardening, which he thought might be useful in clearing the tangled mess around the farmhouse. He was heading to Flourish and Botts when a hand gripped his shoulder.

“Remus Lupin, where have you been hiding yourself?”

He turned around, more startled than he should have been. Where was his constant vigilance?

“Dung. Hello, it’s… good to see you.”

It wasn’t really. Mundungus Fletcher would ask questions and would be reporting back to Dumbledore. And he might try to pick Remus’s pocket. Not that Remus couldn’t cope with that, but he’d have to be on alert. And he really couldn’t oblivate him in Diagon Alley.

“I was worried about you, boy. Albus said you weren’t living there any more, but I was worried you’d been in your cottage when it went up. Don’t usually find bodies after Fiendfyre.”

“What? Fiendfyre?”

“Your cottage. There was a fire there, magical, very nasty. Aurors all over it. You didn’t know?”

Remus shook his head.

“Oh, where have you been living then?”

“Here and there.”

“Like that is it?”

Fletcher looked at the rather worn robe Remus wore. Fortunately Remus had shrunk the stack of books and put them in his pocket.

“I’m alright,” he said, his tone a little defensive.

“Course you are, lad. Your are survivor, aren’t you? And well-trained.”

Remus smiled and nodded. That was true. Fletcher had been most helpful.

“Well, I mustn’t keep you, I know you are busy. I’ll see you later, Dung.”

Remus disappeared into the crowd, casting a quick _Follow-me-not_ as he did.

He quickly picked up _The Complete Guide to Magical Sanitation_ , with spells for every kind of bathroom fixture, at Flourish and Botts. Beside the counter, the latest issue of _The Practical Potioneer_ proclaimed some importance advances in blood replenishers and wound-healing potions, so Remus picked up a copy of that too. The he headed back to the farmhouse.

_Fiendfyre_. That was dangerous, dark magic. Why had his cottage been burning with it? More importantly, who had done it?


	22. Chapter 22

Remus really shouldn’t have laughed at Severus. He should have remembered that when it came to retaliating against the Marauders, Severus had been both determined and imaginative. He might have got away with showering Severus in cold water while he was setting up the spellwork for the bathroom – after all it hadn’t been intentional - but the fact he had laughed about it was a grievous error. He should have known things would go horribly wrong.

He dragged himself out of the deep bath that had appeared exactly where he was standing in the kitchen, and sat panting on the edge. He was soaked through, with icy water dripping from his hair and clothing. Severus had a look of innocent concern on his face which didn’t fool Remus for a moment. He’d spent hours listening to the bathroom spell book and practicing the spells. There was no way he had conjured the bath accidently.

“Are you alright, Lupin? I heard splashing and the odd curse.”

“You know perfectly well, Severus.”

“Oh?”

Remus splashed water from the bath at Severus. Severus pointed his wand and a jet of water hit Remus.

“Mind the books, Severus.”

“Fine,” he responded, in a sulky tone. The bath disappeared and the kitchen dried out.

“That was quite impressive, Severus.”

He smiled a rather disdainful smile.

“I thought so.”

“Might have been a bit nicer if it was warm.”

“Oh really?”

When he had returned from his book-shopping trip, Remus decided to keep his mouth shut about the Fiendfyre. Severus had insisted he was fine when Remus arrived home, but then barely left his side for the rest of the day. Although delighted with the potion journals, he was obviously on edge. Suggesting that Death Eaters were after Remus probably wouldn’t help.

It had to be Death Eaters. It made no sense that anyone else would have done that to his cottage. Not that it was a loss – he’d emptied it of his possessions and it was nearly derelict anyway – but it was a message. We will get you.

It was easier to work on the bathroom.

They’d read through the book, discussing and occasionally arguing a little over what they wanted, and trying out various spells on each other at inopportune moments. Such as when Severus made the floor of the kitchen turn into a giant bath, or when Remus charmed the sanitation bucket to have a bidet function, or when Severus caused the kettle to squirt a jet of water in Remus’s face. _Before_ he’d had his morning cup of tea. That one had provoked a water fight that had left the kitchen drenched and both of them giggling and gasping for breath on the floor.

It took several days to work out the sequence of spellwork, and then they had to scrounge enough metal to transfigure the pipes and the absurdly large bath that Severus insisted on. Remus would have been happy with a bath transfigured from a bucket, which wouldn’t be permanent but would be, in his words, “fine”. But it appeared Severus had _plans_. When Remus tried to point out the practicality of his solution, Severus got a stubborn look on his face that Remus wasn’t prepared to argue with.

They had to go some distance from the farmouse, to where Remus had spotted an abandoned, rusty tractor on his occasional forays out to buy eggs from one of the farmers. It was perfect. The engine hood lay on the ground with grass growing through it – that would make a great start for the bath. There were other large pieces of metal too, the radiator grilles, the wheel guards, and smaller pieces that could make the rest of the bathroom.

After casting a _Notice-me-not _, Remus began disassembling the tractor while Severus shrunk the pieces and slipped them into his pocket. He was uncertain at being outside the farmhouse, clinging to Remus’s arm as he walked, but it was a crisp, autumn day and he was clearly enjoying the sun on his face.__

__Remus was altogether too absorbed in pulling the tractor apart when he heard a rush of sound around his ears and was suddenly face down on the ground._ _

__“Remus–”_ _

__“Severus!”_ _

__Severus didn’t respond. Remus turned his head and saw Severus standing, frozen, his eyes wide with terror. A tall, strong man with dark hair stood behind him, whispering into his ear and holding a wand to his head. Severus dropped his head slightly and Remus caught a glimpse of his face._ _

__Walden MacNair._ _

__Remus slowly moved his hand, attempting to reach his wand, when a heavy-booted foot stamped on his wrist. He gave a squeal of pain as it broke, and then heard the figure above him laugh._ _

__Oh, sweet Merlin. He knew that laugh. It was a slightly silly laugh, high and almost a giggle, but it didn’t sound so silly now. As he gritted his teeth in pain, Remus realised that it was a rather cruel laugh, and had always appeared most freely in response to the suffering of others._ _

__Peter. Peter Pettigrew. Which meant… what? Peter had not died that day in the massive explosion. And Sirius, what did it mean about Sirius?_ _


	23. Chapter 23

“P… Peter? You’re alive.”

That laugh again.

“Oh, Moony. Still stating the blindingly obvious. No doubt still pretending to be quiet, harmless and not too bright, in the hope that people don’t work out the truth.”

He pressed his foot down harder and Remus gritted his teeth, determined not to cry out.

“And imagine my surprise when I hear you've taken up with _Snivellus_. The filthy little faggot. You know what he was up to with Evan Rosier, don’t you. Sucking his dick. Pervert.”

Pettigrew removed his foot from Remus’s wrist and took a couple of steps closer to Severus. Remus felt another foot pressing between his shoulder blades. So, there were at least three of them.

“So, are you sucking Moony’s dick? Does he like that? Or maybe… he’s a filty beast, you know, bet he likes it up the arse.”

The figure with his foot on Remus’s back laughed and agreed.

“I bet he does.”

Carrow. He’d heard when book shopping that both MacNair and Carrow – well, both Carrows – had avoided Azkaban. Unlike Sirius, but he wouldn’t think of that now.

“Enough,” MacNair snapped. “We aren’t here to discuss who this wee clype is sleeping with.”

“No,” Pettigrew said. “I’m here to kill this filthy beast. Who knows who he might share certain… secrets with. But only after I’ve had some fun first. _Crucio_.”

Remus felt his world explode. It was like ten transformations, all at once. He could hear screaming – it was his own voice, he realised.

“Keep the heid, laddie,” MacNair snarled. “This isn’t the time or place.”

Peter backed off, although his wand was still pointed at Remus. MacNair moved his wand from Severus’s head and began to walk around him. Every now and again, Severus would wince with pain, and Remus realised that MacNair was casting some sort of non-verbal hex. Of course he was. Remus remembered that inventing new spells to cause pain and misery was something of a hobby for him.

“You really didn’t think you’d get away from me, did you, laddie? Did you think I wouldn’t have some plan? Remember alll those curses I hit you with? Or course you do, you still haven’t got your eyesight back, have you?”

He waved his wand in front of Snape’s face.

“Bet you wish you could see. That’s tae ill, because I’m the only one who knows the counter-curse. And I don’t really feel like helping you right now.”

Now he was stroking one hand down Severus’s hair. His voice had dropped almost to a whisper, but not so quiet that Remus couldn’t hear.

“Among those spells, laddie, was a tracking spell. I admit I had some help with that one…”

MacNair looked across at Pettigrew. That made sense. He’d been damn good at the tracking spells they’d used on the Marauder’s map. Most of the spellwork had been him and Remus, with the exploration of the castle led by Sirius and James.

“You’ve been somewhere unplottable, clearly, as I couldn’t see you. But I knew you weren’t dead. You’d been at that boggin cottage, hadn’t you? So you couldn’t be dead. And I just had to wait until you left your wee bolthole and…”

Severus appeared terrified. His breath was coming in noisy gasps and he was shaking. But Remus noticed his hand moving, removing something from his pocket. The tractor parts. He flicked them onto the ground and MacNair stepped over them without noticing. They were shrunken after all. MacNair kept pacing.

Remus drew in a sharp breath. Only yesterday, Severus had caught him with a showering spell. Remus hadn’t been carrying his wand, so he’d used his wandless _Finite Incantatem_ to get rid of it. Severus would remember that.

Remus watched carefully until MacNair paced another circle and was just about to step on the parts, then flicked his finger towards them. He whispered the incantation, hoping they wouldn’t realise what he was doing.

MacNair went flying as one foot was suddenly stepping on the engine hood and the other caught a wheel guard. Then Pettigrew was shouting and Carrow was shouting and Severus had his wand out, waving it around blindly. No, not so blindly, Remus noticed. His wand was aimed high, so that only someone standing would be hit. And he was listening.

As Pettigrew let out another shout, Severus took aim in the direction of the sound.

“ _Petrificus totalis_.”

Pettigrew was immobilised and then Carrow suddenly realised that Severus was a real threat.

“Duck, Severus!” Remus yelled.

As Severus dropped to the ground, the purple flash from Carrow’s wand missed him and struck the fallen MacNair. Then there was a volley of pops and half a dozen aurors had them surrounded.

“Wands on the ground!” Moody shouted.

Remus breathed a sigh of relief, before he realised that the situation might not have been improved by Moody’s arrival. He was in the company of two men who were supposedly dead, and one who quite possibly was, looking at the state of MacNair.

There was only one thing for it. Before he dropped his wand, Lupin sent out a silvery blackbird and whispered the name _Albus Dumbledore _.__

__Better the devil you know._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: most of MacNair's words are [here](https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/Appendix:Glossary_of_Scottish_slang_and_jargon), apart from "keep the heid" which means calm down.


	24. Chapter 24

Severus’s expression had returned to the feral defiance he’d shown when Remus had first rescued him. Remus wasn’t sure whether it was real or put on, but he had a nasty feeling it was real. He must have been a good actor to have worked as a spy, but Remus didn’t believe he was that good. He was shivering and snarling, and one auror was already bleeding from a bitten hand.

As he was dragged away between two aurors, Remus tried to intervene.

“Stop, leave him alone. He hasn’t… he’s not a Death Eater.”

“Don’t be a fool, Lupin,” Moody said, grabbing the sleeve of Severus’s shirt and pulling it up roughly. The mark was there, dark against the pale skin. Remus had seen it, of course, but it was just one more thing he didn’t think about, didn’t mention.

“Actually, Alastor, he’s partly correct.”

A claw-like hand gripped Remus’s shoulder.

“I’ll need to speak to him, immediately. He was acting as the Order’s spy until I was told he’d died. I’m sure you appreciate the _sensitivity_ of the situation, Alastor.”

Remus had never seen Dumbledore use that tone on Moody and was curious to note that it had the same effect as it did on him. Moody ordered the two aurors holding Severus to release him, and Dumbledore walked over.

“Hello, Severus. Imagine my surprise, dear boy, when I hear you are alive.”

Severus said nothing. Dumbledore placed a hand under his elbow and walked him away down the corridor.

Dumbledore returned with a pensive look on his face.

“Remus, I believe we need to speak.”

Remus found himself in a small room with Dumbledore, sitting in a comfortable chair and holding a cup of tea. He wasn’t sure how how much trouble he was in.

“Well, dear boy, it appears that I may have underestimated you.”

“Thank you.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, but Remus was feeling defiant. He wondered briefly whether it was the company of Severus.

“I’ve spoken to Severus, but he was… uninformative. He wasn’t making much sense at all, actually. He seems to be in a rather fragile state. So I think that you are going to have to tell me how it is that a man you said you’d killed is alive and w… hmm, let’s just say alive in the hills of Snowdonia.”

“It’s not his fault.”

“Really.”

“You’d have had me kill him. I… I nearly killed him when we were at school and… it didn’t seem right. I… what James, Sirius and Peter did to him at school was wrong. And I never did anything about it, even when I was a prefect. But then, nor did you. What did you do when Sirius led him to the shack? Gave him bloody detention, that’s what.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows again.

“I admit, that’s a very noble sentiment. And… you did manage to do it without… compromising the objective. I’m impressed with what you did, actually. I wish you’d told me though.”

“You were willing to kill him. I didn’t want to take that chance.”

The hardness in his eyes seemed to soften slightly.

“Do you think, Remus, that Severus would have prefered you to leave him alive in the hands of the Death Eaters if you couldn’t rescue him?”

Remus felt cold. He remembered the night when Severus had said it might have been better if Remus had killed him.

“How did you do it?” Dumbledore asked, his voice a little more gentle.

Remus told him. He thought that Dumbledore would use leglimency for a moment, but then Dumbledore nodded.

“Remus, I know you think I’m a heartless bastard, but in a war… you have to remember the objective. In a war, you have to make sacrifices. People will die, people will suffer. The best you can do is try to make sure people don’t suffer and die in vain.”

“Like Lily and James?”

“They died defending their son. I… that haunts me, you know. I knew there was a spy in the Order. I did wonder about Peter, but then… Sirius was the secret keeper, and I… I was sure he was loyal. But it appears that Voldemort’s little rat was more cunning than…”

Remus froze.

“What?" Remus said, a sharpness in his voice which made Dumbledore look at him intently. "Voldemort's little _what_?”

“Voldemort’s little rat. When Severus reported there was a spy, he said that Voldemort had refered to having a little rat in the Order.”

Remus hung his head.

“There’s something else you don’t know," he mumbled. "Peter’s an animagus. His form is a rat. We… they… I’m certainly not one… at school… James was a deer, Sirius a dog, Peter a rat.”

“I see.”

Dumbledore stood.

“Remus, it appears that you have become fond of Severus. Before you… get too attached, ask him about the prophecy.”

“What will happen to him.”

“I imagine they will want to keep him here and question him. But I have evidence that he was working for me. It should keep him out of prison.”

“And Sirius?”

“The aurors will talk to Peter. I imagine they’ll get the truth out of him – he’s a cunning one, but he can’t be that clever. Using an Unforgivable in remote, rural Wales. Did he not think that the auror’s office wouldn’t notice? If Sirius wasn’t responsible, then I’m not so unfeeling as to leave an innocent man in Azkaban.”

Dumbledore turned and walked away, then turned back for a moment.

“Go home, Remus. I’ll sort this out and send you an owl.”


	25. Chapter 25

The farmhouse seemed dead and empty without Severus. He’d helped to make it habitable, and somehow it seemed as much his space as Remus’s. There were potion journals stacked on the table that Severus had sanded down and revarnished, clean laundry was stacked on his mattress, the bathroom spellbook was sitting open on the page with the bath he wanted so much. Remus made himself tea and brooded as he drank it.

On the other hand, Peter was alive, which meant… what? He wasn’t sure yet, and there wasn’t much he could do right now except wait. Sulking wouldn’t make the answers come any faster. He picked up the spellbook and headed to the bathroom.

The owl came three days later. There would be trials for both Sirius and Severus, but the evidence was enough in their favour that they could be released to a known address until those trials came. _A known address_. Remus thought long and hard, and decided that he had no choice. Maybe in future he could redo the wards and make the place unplottable again, but right now, he needed to be that known address.

When he picked them both up at the Ministry, Remus wasn’t sure who looked more miserable. Severus was trembling, his head moving around as he tried to pick up sounds, while his eyes were blank. Sirius stood with his head bowed and shoulders slumped. He was filthy and ragged. Remus stood between them, held one with each arm and apparated back to Wales.

Sirius looked around the farm house kitchen, before his eyes settled on Severus.

“I really don’t understand why _Snivellus_ has to be here.”

“Don’t call him that.”

Sirius looked hard at Remus.

“So you’re defending the little faggot then?”

“He’s been li… staying here. It’s safe for him, he was spying for the Order, he needed to escape the Death Eaters.”

“And you needed to look after him because…”

Sirius’s eyes settled on the two mattresses, side by side in one corner of the kitchen.

“Merlin, Moony. You’re not sleeping with him are you? You’re not…”

“Sirius, I’m not… it’s not… it’s not like that. It’s just… at night, he has nightmares.”

“Oh, poor little Snivellus. Does he wet the bed too?”

“Sirius, don’t, please.”

“Leave it, Lupin. I don’t need your pathetic efforts at defending me from big, bad Black.”

Remus turned to see Severus’s face tight with contained anger.

“You just keep on licking his boots like you always did. You always were more of a whipped puppy than a wolf, weren’t you.”

“Severus…”

“Lupin, I’m going for a walk. I expect my things moved into another room before I return. I don’t care which one, as long as neither of you are in it.”

He walked out the door and walked towards the tangled thicket of rhododendron that surrounded the farmhouse. He had his wand held out in front and the vegetation parted before him. He stumbled a little over the uneven ground, but didn’t waver.

Lupin stood watching him silently. What had he been thinking? He’d been so happy to discover that Sirius was innocent, to have one of his friends back, that he hadn’t thought about how Severus would feel. Severus’s safe haven had been invaded by one of his childhood tormentors, and Lupin had… oh Merlin, he had just given Sirius more ammunition by telling Sirius that Severus had nightmares. Severus must be mortified.

“Why do you put up with that poofter, Moony. It was kind of you to save his life but you shouldn’t feel obliged to take care of him. I know Dumbledore pushes you into things, but you need to learn to stand up for yourself.”

In his head, Lupin thought “yes, I do”, but he didn’t say it.

“He’s not so bad, Sirius. I don’t understand what you’ve got against him, what you had against him at school.”

“Because he’s a fucking poofter, Moony. You don’t get it do you? I saw the way he looked at you at school. To think a slimy Slytherin like him wanted to get his hands on you, Merlin, I couldn’t stand the thought of him doing something to you. You wouldn’t have stood up for yourself if someone tried to take advantage.”

Lupin sighed. That, at least, was true.

“Well, Severus never did, and he hasn’t done anything since he’s been here either.”

Apart from the time he was off his face on a dodgy pain potion, but Lupin didn’t mention that.

“Just leave him alone, please Sirius. And… please don’t call me Moony. You know that name’s for the wolf. I don’t like being called that.”

“But, you always loved it, M… Remus. Didn’t you?”

Sirius looked suddenly uncertain.

“No, Sirius, I didn’t. I never liked it. I was just… I didn’t want to offend you and James. I liked it as the name for the werewolf, but not when I’m me.”

Sirius dropped his head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. You should have said something.”

“Yes, I suppose I should have.”

Lupin shrugged.

“Let’s move Severus’s stuff. Whatever room we use, we’ll have to fix it up a bit, this room and the bathroom are the only decent rooms.”

Sirius smiled.

“Do you have a shower? Or a bath? I haven’t bathed in months.”

Lupin left Sirius in the bathroom. He relfected sadly on the fact that he’d completed it – tractor parts making the giant bath and everything – while Severus was away being questioned, as a surprise for when he came home. Now, Sirius would bathe in it before Severus would.

When Severus returned, he hid in his room and refused to come out, even to eat. Lupin eventually took some of the roast beef and vegetables he’d cooked in to him. Severus looked miserable, he’d clearly been crying and everything in his body language screamed _alert_.

“Severus…”

“Save it, Lupin. I get it. You’ve missed your friend and want to spend time with him. I’ll get out of your hair in the morning.”

“You don’t have to leave, please, Severus.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Where would you go?”

Severus shrugged.

“I can probably scrounge off the Malfoys a bit. Lucius is a bit… well, he’s always been kind in a patronising sort of way, but I always did got on with Narcissa. You know I’m godfather to their son?”

“I didn’t know. You are close to them then?”

“Not that close. The D… um… You-know-who decided that kind of thing for the Death Eaters. He was pleased with me at the time. Decided I’d be a good one to teach Draco how to be a good little follower.”

“Severus, Dumbledore said I should ask… ask you about the prophecy.”

“He did, did he?” Severus said, after long and rather awkward pause.

Lupin stood silently, arms wrapped around himself. The expression on Severus’s face was hard to read.

“You know which prophecy he means, Lupin?”

“I thought… probably Trelawney’s. About Harry. Killing Voldemort.”

Severus flinched at the name.

“It wasn’t about Harry. It was just about a child born that month. There were two children born to Order members, and there were others it could have been too. But… You-know-who decided it was Harry.”

“Well, it was, wasn’t it? Harry survived. Defeated him.”

“Indeed.”

“So what about it? What did Dumbledore want me to know?”

Severus paused, then turned his face towards Remus. He pulled his shoulders back and tilted his chin up slightly. A slight sneer appeared on his lips.

“I’m the one who told… You-know-who about it. I overheard it and passed it on. I’m the reason that your friends are dead, that… Lily… that Lily is dead.”

The look on his face hardened.

“Now get out, Lupin,” Snape snarled. “Get out.”


	26. Chapter 26

Snape was packed in the morning, but he didn’t leave.

“Full moon tonight, Lupin. We need to brew those potions – we were going to make the different restorative and try those variations on the blood replenisher. I’ll leave when I’ve done them.”

Lupin couldn’t look at him. He’d run Snape’s words in his head all night. Snape had betrayed James and Lily. Snape was responsible for their deaths, for Harry being an orphan. And Lupin had cared for him. He’d risked his own life to save Snape, and he was the bastard responsible for the murder of his friends.

“I’ll be fine, Sirius can help me.”

“With brewing? Do you remember what he was like at school? He’ll blow up the kitchen.”

“Just go.”

Sirius was watching curiously.

“Moony… Remus, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Last night you were defending him. Now you want him to leave. You can’t even look at him. What happened? What did he do? Did he try and touch you, to do something to you?”

“Merlin’s sake, Sirius, will you just leave it. It’s nothing like that.”

“What then?”

Lupin said nothing, a sullen look on his face. Finally, Snape gave a sigh and spoke.

“I told him that I was the one who passed on Trelawney’s prophecy to You-know-who,” Snape said. “I’m the one you got your friends killed. So, he’s finally realised just what sort of man he’s been sharing a house with.”

“You what?” Sirius said, grabbing the front of Snape’s robe and then shoving him against the wall. “You bastard, you filthy bastard. How dare you even be here, you little shit. You’ve let Moony look after you and all the time you are the bastard who…”

Sirius released one hand from Snape’s robe, pulling it back and then punching Snape in the face.

“Sirius, please, just leave it.”

“I’m going to kill this fucking bastard.”

He threw Snape on the ground and appeared about to kick him in the head. Snape gave a whimper, but made no attempt to protect himself. Lupin grabbed Sirius and pulled him away.

“Leave him alone.”

Lupin’s voice was suddenly firmer. Sirius backed away, hatred on his face, his breathing heavy, his whole body shaking with rage.

“Back off, Sirius. Calm down. Go and have a shower or something. You don’t want to end up back in Azkaban.”

Sirius stormed out of the room, kicking over a couple of chairs on the way. Lupin took a deep breath to calm himself. He looked down at Snape, who was trembling on the ground.

“Severus?”

“I’m sorry. Just… give me a few minutes and I’ll go.”

Lupin crouched beside him. He was angry and hurt, but another part of him still wanted to wrap Snape in his arms.

“Will you tell me what happened, Severus? Surely you owe me that?”

Snape gave a tentative nod and pushed himself up on his hands and knees. His nose was dripping blood and his face was already swelling a little.

“Can I heal that for you, Severus?”

“Don’t worry, it’s… don’t worry.”

He leaned back against the wall, closed his eyes and breathed out a slow breath.

“I overheard Sibyll Trelawney talking to Dumbledore. Do you know her at all? She makes dire predictions on a fairly regular basis, although they’re generally quite… vague.”

Lupin nodded, before realising what he was doing.

“I do remember reading some drama about a prediction about the death of the Minister of Magic when we were at school,” he said. “Didn’t the Minister respond by saying that she thought she might take up dragon wrestling, since she was now quite confident of living until she was at least 100?”

“Yes, that’s her.”

“You didn’t take it seriously. You didn’t believe her.”

“Of course I didn’t. I didn’t think that even You-know-who would be quite that paranoid. I was wrong.”

Snape’s eyes filled with tears.

“It didn’t even cross my mind that it would put Lily in harm’s way. If it had, I would have never… I didn’t think it would endanger anyone, really. It was absurd. But it gave me something to report on, so it seemed like I was doing what I was supposed to. I was… not the Dark Lord’s favourite by then. Evan and I had talked about leaving, and after... he died I wasn’t quite enthusiastic enough about the murdering and maiming… And then…”

The tears began to run down his face, and Lupin took Snape’s hand.

“Lily was your friend, wasn’t she, at school.”

“Until I messed everything up, yes. I… I…”

Snape was sobbing now, face in his hands.

“I called… her a… mudblood. She… never… forgave me. And… and then I… betrayed her… she’d be alive… she’d be alive if not for me…”

Lupin put an arm around Snape’s shoulders.

“That’s when… when I went… to Dumbledore… became his spy…”

Lupin began to rock Snape gently. He couldn’t stay angry, somehow.

“Shh, now, you can’t blame yourself for everything. You weren’t to know. You weren’t there. You weren’t holding the wand…”

“I wasn’t holding the wand either,” Sirius said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t blame myself until the day I die.”

Lupin looked up to see Sirius leaning against the door frame.

“Sirius?”

“Those months in Azkaban… you don’t have anything to do except think about your worst moments. Every mistake you’ve made, every bad decision, everything you’ve lost… I kept thinking that if I hadn’t listened to Peter… trusted him… I trusted him over you, Remus, and if I hadn’t, James and Lily would be alive. So I wasn’t holding the wand either, but I’ll never stop feeling like it was my fault.”

Lupin released Snape and stood.

“Sirius, no, that’s not fair. You can’t blame yourself.”

“You’re a forgiving man, Remus. Always were. Maybe you are too forgiving, but it’s got to be better than letting the bitterness build up inside you until you become like Peter. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you more.”

Lupin wrapped him in a hug.

“It’s alright, Sirius.”

After a while, Sirius pulled away and looked down at Snape.

“He should stay, at least until he’s helped you with the potions.”

Snape didn’t respond. He had his head in his hands and was crying silently.

“I shouldn’t have hit you. I... was angry. I… I’m… I’m sorry, Snape.”

Sirius turned and walked out, slamming the door.


	27. Chapter 27

After Sirius left, Snape allowed Lupin to heal his nose. He also accepted Lupin’s suggestion that they make the bruise salve before anything else, to deal with the bruising on his face. He summoned his potion books and a couple of the journals and started given Lupin instructions. His voice was flat and his face blank, and Lupin ached for the sarcastic, disdainful, funny Severus he’d got to know over the previous weeks.

When Sirius returned, he was subdued too. He largely ignored Snape and said little to Remus. He sat staring morosely into a cup of tea, clearly wishing it was something stronger.

“Are we going to have a run tonight, Remus?”

“Too populated around here. I’ll go in the cellar.”

Sirius nodded.

“You want Padfoot with you?”

“Of course, Sirius, but will it be okay with just you? What if Moony gets out of hand?”

“I’ll be okay.”

Snape was listening curiously, but didn’t say anything. Lupin had a sudden urge to explain.

“Sirius is an animagus. He can be with Moony, safely. It helps, I… I do less damage to myself if I have company. Well, non-human company, obviously.”

Snape said nothing. There was an odd expression on his face, but he acted almost as if he hadn’t heard.

The following morning, Lupin was indeed in a better condition. He wasn’t in a pool of blood at least, in fact there were no serious wounds at all. On the other hand, his fingernails were completely shredded and his fingers bleeding, because Moony had still been desperate to get out and had spent half the night scratching at the door or trying to dig through the floor. He’d also fallen down the steps again attempting to knock the door down, and this time had broken ribs. On his own, Padfoot had only been able to provide limited distraction.

Sirius had already scourgified the cellar before Snape released the wards and shuffled down the stairs.

“Lupin, where are you?”

“Over here, Severus.”

Snape crouched beside him and cast a diagnostic spell.

“What’s he doing?” Sirius asked, his tone defensive.

“Diagnostic spell,” Lupin said.

“How’d he learn that? Snape, since when did you study healing?”

“Since I read it in one of Lupin’s books,” Snape said. “Took me about 15 minutes to learn.”

The unspoken implication was clear and Sirius looked slightly chastened.

“You have broken ribs, Lupin. I’ve brought your wand, if you want it, but I think I can heal them if that’s easier.”

Lupin looked up at Snape. He’d learned to heal broken ribs? For him?

“Severus? You know how?”

“I’ve studied the spells. I think I can. I know it’s more of a risk than just a diagnostic spell but…”

“Severus, it would be amazing if you could heal my ribs. It’s so painful doing them myself. I… I’m just… thank you, Severus.”

Severus held his wand to Lupin’s side and, one by one, healed each of the broken bones. He worked precisely and efficiently, and when he was done he draped Rosier’s dressing gown over Lupin.

“Sirius, you have no idea, Severus was just amazing after the last full moon. Moony had really made a mess of me, blood everywhere, my arm and hand all smashed up, I was in a horrible state and the cellar was disgusting too. Severus was so helpful.”

Sirius looked annoyed more than anything, but didn’t say anything insulting. Lupin breathed a sigh of relief. Considering the how he had behaved the previous day, saying nothing qualified as “on his best behaviour”.

Of course, it couldn’t last.

By the time Lupin had been helped to his mattress in the kitchen, and Severus had given Lupin the restorative draught and applied the bruise salve to his chest, Sirius was starting to look like he wanted to say something rude. When Severus began rubbing the green joint salve into Lupin’s aching back while Lupin lay on the mattress with only Rosier’s dressing gown covering his hips, Sirius could clearly contain himself no longer.

“Remus, how can you stand this? It’s disgusting, he’s got his hands all over you.”

“Sirius, please, my back hurts and the salve helps, that’s all. There’s nothing disgusting about it.”

“Come on Moony, the filthy little faggot’s been wanting to get his hands on you for years. I’ll bet he’s getting off on it, the slimy pervert.”

“Sirius, would you just shut up. I know your views and I’m getting rather sick of it, to be honest.”

“Lupin, really, I couldn’t care less what Black thinks,” Severus said. “He can spout homosexual slurs all he wants, I’m quite comfortable with who I am. It really doesn’t bother me.”

“Yes, well, that’s one of the things I most admire about you, Severus. I like the way that you are fine being who you are, and I’ve enjoyed hearing about you and Evan, actually. But, Sirius, even if it doesn’t upset Severus, it bothers me,” Lupin said, pushing himself up so he was sitting and scowling at Sirius.

“What?”

Sirius was staring at Lupin, incredulous.

“It bothers me when you talk like that, can you please stop it.”

“What do you mean, it bothers you? He’s the fucking pervert who’s trying to grope you.”

Lupin took a deep breath.

“Sirius, did you ever make a pass at Lily? Grope her, try and cop a feel? Fantasise about raping her?”

“What? No! How could you even ask that?”

“Well, you thought she was attractive. You said that, I remember, one time James was feeling sorry for himself because she told him to take a hike. Again. You said she was a real looker, really pretty, but that there were other pretty girls and that he should try and forget about Lily.”

“So?”

“So if you thought she was pretty, why didn’t you try groping her or something?”

“What’s this got to do with anything? Of course I wouldn’t do that. I’m not a complete asshole.”

“Well you are doing a bloody good impression right now. If you wouldn’t start molesting Lily even though you’re a straight man and she’s an attractive woman, what makes you so convinced that Severus would… would do something untoward to me?”

“Moony, it’s not the same,” Sirius said, in that whiny voice he used when he knew he was wrong but was still trying to talk Lupin around.

“Of course it is,” Lupin snapped. “It’s exactly the fucking same.”

“You’re getting awfully keen on defending him, Moony,” he replied, his tone shifting. Whiny voice hadn't worked, so he had moved to playing on Lupin's fears of being abandoned. That always worked. “Are you trying to tell me something? Maybe you’re a poofter too? Is that what you are trying to say? That you’re a faggot like Snape?”

Suddenly Lupin was on his feet, shouting.

“For Merlin’s sake, you stupid bigot. That’s exactly what I’m fucking saying. Do you really not get it? I’ve dropped hints for years and all you and James and Peter ever did was make horrible comments about Snape and Evan and fucking anyone you didn’t think was manly enough. Do you have any fucking idea how fucking horrible it was listening to you talk like that all the time and making me feel like complete and utter shit, and all I wanted to do was grab you by the collar and scream in your face “I like boys, you great tosser” and what did I do instead? I just… I just…”

Suddenly his anger seemed spent and his voice dropped back to a miserable mumble.

“I just tried to pretend everything was fine, to pretend I was something I was not, all the time hating myself so much because every day my friends would be reminding me that I was disgusting, filthy, unnatural…”

Lupin suddenly stopped speaking and looked at the ground. Sirius was staring in shock. Severus was holding Rosier’s dressing gown, which had fallen across him as Lupin stood. Finally, Severus stood up and broke the silence.

“Remus,” he said gently, as he slipped the dressing gown around Lupin’s shoulders. As he spoke, he took each of Lupin’s hands and slid them into the sleeves, before tying the dressing gown closed. “You are no doubt making Black extremely uncomfortable with this conversation. At the very least, you could make the situation a little less awkward by confronting him when you are decently clothed.”


	28. Chapter 28

Remus woke when Sirius shook his shoulder roughly.

“Moony, Moony, Moony, wake up.”

Sirius shook him again. Remus opened an eye to see Sirius’s face close to his.

“There you go, Moony,” Sirius said, smiling, and Remus caught the smell of alcohol on his breath.

“Black, will you leave him alone.”

Severus’s tone was rather like that of an irritated schoolteacher. He was standing at the table, cautiously sprinkling something over a bubbling cauldron. Then he began picking up jars, sniffing the contents and putting them back down.

Remus pushed himself up.

“Severus, what are you doing? Are you _brewing_?”

“Of course not, I thought I’d whip us up a batch of scones.”

Remus stood up stiffly and walked across to the table. Sirius followed.

“Severus, that’s dangerous.”

“I’m fine. It’s only Sober-up.”

He handed Remus a jar.

“This is common ink cap, right?”

“No, it’s not, Severus. It’s _Mycena chlorophos_. If you put that in the Sober-up, Sirius will probably glow in the dark.”

“Hey, cool. Can I try it?’

Sirius tried to grab the jar.

“No, Sirius.”

Remus pulled the jar away from Sirius and handed Severus the ink cap.

“Hey, if I eat glowing mushrooms, will Snape be able to see me?”

“No, he won’t, Sirius. Can you please just sit down. You’re drunk.”

Severus gave a snort, muttering “really?”, and Sirius laughed.

“Yeah, no kidding Moony, I’m drunk. So what’s the deal with Snape, anyway. Why can’t he see? He was never blind at school. Did he wank to much or something? Bet that was it.”

“Sirius, leave it,” Remus said sharply.

“What else makes you blind? Oh, I know, drinking methylated spirits. You a bit of an alkie Snape?”

“Shut up, Sirius.”

Remus noticed that Severus was starting to look tense. He tried to move Sirius back, aiming to get him into another room.

“Did a cauldron blow up in your face?”

The jar of ink caps dropped to the floor and shattered. Severus swore and stepped backwards, knocking over a chair. He jumped, startled, then suddenly looked as if he was about to cry.

“It was a curse, if you must know,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “From Walden MacNair. One of his own inventions. Only he knew the counter curse. I never thought I’d be sorry to say MacNair was dead, but unfortunately the fact that he is means that I’m stuck like this. So I’d really rather not talk about it. The Sober-up should be ready now. I’m… I’m going for a walk.”

Severus walked out of the kitchen, avoiding the broken glass and closing the door with a quiet click.

Remus cooled the Sober-up before pouring some into a cup. He was a little nervous about what would happen once Sirius was sober – after Remus’s declaration, Sirius had simply stared at him in disgust and then walked out. Severus had been subdued, but very kind, helping Remus to have a bath in the beautiful big bath, giving him the pain potion and then helping him to bed. He said very little, apart from a brief moment of smugness in the bathroom when he’d said “now you see why I thought we needed the bath”. After that, it appeared that Remus had slept most of the day.

He wasn’t surprised to find that Sirius had returned drunk. What he was surprised about was that Severus and Sirius weren’t at each other’s throats. Sirius was being a happy drunk, which Remus knew could easily turn to maudlin or angry drunk Sirius if he was wound up. Severus must have been surprisingly diplomatic.

When Sirius had drunk the potion, his whole body slumped forward and he sat with his head in his hands.

“I could make some hangover potion, Sirius.”

“Don’t bother.”

He lifted his head and looked at Remus through bloodshot eyes.

“I think I might officially be the Worst Best Friend Ever.”

“Sirius, no.”

“Clearly, I’ve made you miserable for years. I really had no idea. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, Sirius, it’s alright.” 

“No, I don’t think it is. You said I – well, James, Peter and I – made you feel like shit, like you were disgusting and filthy. I never meant you to feel like that. I don’t understand, I really don’t, I don’t know why, why you would choose to be like… you know. But I still want to be your friend. You are still such a good person.”

“Sirius – I didn’t choose this. I’d have never chosen to be like this. Why would I do that? You know me, I’d give anything, anything, just to be normal and fit in. And I’m not and I can’t. I can no more help being queer than I can help being a fucking werewolf. And I wish I was neither, but that’s not going to happen.”

Remus hung his head and started to pick at invisible threads on his pyjamas. Sirius said nothing. Finally Remus spoke again.

“I’m sorry, Sirius, you are my best friend and have been for ten years, but I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. Either you accept me as I am, and for Merlin’s sake stop saying those horrible things to Severus, or I’ll have to help you find somewhere else to stay.”

He looked up to see Sirius’s eyes on him.

“That’s reasonable, Remus. I never really thought of it like that, you know. I always thought… well actually I don’t know that I thought at all. If I had, I think I’d have realised… oh Merlin. I’m sorry, Remus. I’m so, so sorry. I… you know I did apologise to Snape. It was a rather drunken apology, so I should probably do it sober as well… Look, I can’t say I understand or am happy about this, but there’s no way I want to lose you. I’ll… I’ll get used to it, I know I will.

“You’re rambling, Sirius,” Remus said, and thought about giving him a hug. He wanted to, but he wasn’t sure he trusted Sirius not to react badly. The trust would take time to come, he realised, but at least his worst fear, that he would be summarily rejected, had not been realised.

“Is it really true that Snape’s blind forever?”

“I don’t know, Sirius. MacNair created the spell and he’s dead. He actually said just before he died that nobody else knew the counter curse. So, probably.”

“I suppose it would be too much to hope for that he was an _organised_ sadist, and wrote everything down.”

Remus suddenly went still.

“Fuck, I’m an idiot.”

“You know, I’ve been saying that for years, Remus. I’m glad you’ve finally come round to my point of view.”

“I visited MacNair’s place once, Polyjuiced, obviously. He had a cellar where he practiced his sick curses on the house elves and prisoners. And he had notebooks. Notebook after notebook. He took meticulous notes about what he did to them. If we could get those notebooks…”

“What are you suggesting, Remus, a burglary mission?”

“I think,” Remus said slowly, “that is exactly what I’m suggesting.”


	29. Chapter 29

They waited, Remus pacing anxiously and making cups of tea which he didn’t drink, for Severus to return. When he hadn’t returned, well after nightfall and with heavy rain falling, Remus prepared to go out searching for him.

“He was gone for ages that other time he stormed off, Remus. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“But it’s dark now, and raining.”

“He’s blind, Remus, I don’t think it bothers him that it’s dark outside.”

“I know, but it’s late and cold and I’m worried. He’s…”

Remus paused, realising that telling Sirius about Severus’s problems might not be the wisest approach.

“There’s something wrong with him, isn’t there? I mean apart from being a… um… blind. He seems a bit, I don’t know, fragile? He was never like that at school.”

Remus gave Sirius a hard look. He wasn’t known for his sensitivity, but he had moments of perceptiveness. Remus finally gave a nod.

“He was tortured by Death Eaters when they found out he was spying for Dumbledore. It was pretty bad, beatings, repeated Cruciatus, being blinded. There were a lot of curses I didn’t even recognise when I ran the diagnostic spells. When I rescued him, he was in a bad way. He’s a lot better now, but…”

Remus paused and looked at Sirius, who, he was relieved to see, was looking slightly ashamed.

“He needs a lot of patience and sensitivity, and a quiet, calm environment.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t helped, have I?”

Remus rolled his eyes.

“No, Sirius.”

“I’ll try and… I don’t know, be nicer?”

“He also needs for us not to make a big deal out of it. Just treat him like normal… well, you know what I mean. Be yourself – minus the insults – and I’ll tell you if you need to back off.”

“He’s lucky to have you, Remus.”

Remus looked at Sirius curiously. It struck him as an odd thing to say.

“Should we go and find him then?” Sirius added.

Remus nodded.

They found Snape, after a combination of tracking spells and hard searching, miles from the farm house, huddled on the ground, soaked and shivering. Remus dropped to his knees beside him.

“Severus? I’m here, it’s alright.”

Severus shook his head. Remus place his hand on Severus’s.

“Come on, you’re cold and wet. Let’s go home.”

Severus shook his head again.

“I’m sorry, Remus. I… I don’t want to be ungrateful. But… I can’t… I can’t live like this.”

“Oh, Severus.”

Remus wrapped his other arm around Severus’s shoulders, noticing the way he flinched.

“I know it’s hard, but you are doing really well. You’ve made amazing progress.”

“I wish you’d let me die.”

“No, Severus!”

Tears began to run down Severus’s face. Remus turned to Sirius.

“Could you head home and run a bath, please?”

Sirius looked extremely relieved and apparated away.

Remus held Severus more tightly, feeling his body convulse with sobbing.

“Shh, now. It’s alright, it will be alright. Just… please… just hang in there, Severus.”

He kept up the reassurances, holding Severus tight and rocking slightly. When the tension in his body eased, Remus relaxed his hold, but didn’t let go.

“Severus, you are cold, wet and tired. Come home, have a warm bath, and we will talk. You have been doing so well, you’ve made amazing progress. This is just… well, I know inviting Sirius to stay was… hard on you. But he’s… I… I think I can keep him in line now.”

Severus gave a weak smile.

“I admit, I wish I’d been able to see that instead of just hear. You were great. You know, Black actually apologised to me, when he came back drunk. Of course he also gave me the whole “he’s my best friend, if you do anything to hurt him I’ll beat you up” speech.”

Remus blushed and changed the subject.

“Umm… you know… Sirius had an idea… about MacNair. I think… I think it might be good news.”

He took Severus home, walked him to the bathroom and stripped him of his sodden clothes.

“In the bath, Severus.”

He gently guided Severus in, careful that he didn’t slip.

“What do you think? You haven’t had a bath in it yet, have you? Did I make a good job of it?”

Severus nodded.

“It’s lovely.”

“Here, rest your head back.”

Remus took a bowl and poured warm water over Severus’s head.

“This should help get you warmed up. You were absolutely freezing.”

He poured more water, his other hand supporting the back of Severus’s head.

“Please don’t give me a fright like that again, Severus. I was worried you’d fallen over a cliff or something.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m the one that’s sorry. I let you down, Severus, bringing Sirius here and allowing him to treat you like that. I’ve told him that he will have to go if he can’t accept me as I am and treat you properly.”

“You did?”

“Yes, and he accepted it too. He’s not a bad person, he really isn’t. Just impulsive and immature sometimes. His heart is good.”

Severus nodded then gave a relaxed sigh.

“Thank you, Remus. That means a lot.”

He moved his arms and legs a little, luxuriating in the warmth. Remus tried not to look, but blushed furiously as he caught sight of Severus’s body stretched out in the water. He had lost some of the wasted look he’d had when Remus had rescued him. He was still thin, but wiry and probably, Remus thought, quite strong. His skin was pale with contrasting dark hair. Remus thought he looked perfect. And he realised that if they were able to restore Severus’s sight, Remus was going to have a problem hiding certain things.

“You know,” Severus said, his tone languid, “one of the things I liked about this bath is that it’s big enough for two.”

Remus was suddenly aware of just how hard he was. Oh, dear Merlin, he was doomed.


	30. Chapter 30

Their burglary mission was, after the planning and repeated assurances to Severus that they’d be careful, something of an anti-climax. They took polyjuice from Remus’s collection – a precaution in case they were spotted – cautiously broke in and crept through the house, only to stumble on half a dozen rather drunk house elves, apparently having a party.

“Oh, fuck,” said one. “Don’t tell me one of you is the new master.”

His words slurred slightly.

“Umm… no,” Remus said. “We, just needed to collect something, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, take whatever you want. Except the firewhisky,” the elf added, with a warning look.

Sirius, who was already looking at the drinks cabinet, looked a little disappointed.

They found the notebooks, fifteen of them, neatly stacked on a shelf in the cellar. They shrunk and pocketed them all, then as an afterthought, Sirius decided to take the rest of MacNair’s books on dark magic as well.

“They might be useful,” he said, “and the elves did say we should take whatever they wanted.”

“He thinks you’re Amycus Carrow.”

“Whatever, Bellatrix.”

The more difficult challenge proved to be finding information in the notebooks. There was page after page documenting the vile curses he’d inflicted on house elves, muggles, Death Eaters who had fallen from Voldemort’s favour and various prisoners he had held in his cellar. It had taken less than half an hour for all three of them to conclude that they couldn’t cope with the notebooks being read out loud. If Remus did the reading spell, the notebooks were in MacNair’s voice, and the voice that Severus’s wand conjured sounded too much like MacNair for them to use that either. After that, Remus and Sirius read the notebooks in silence, labouring over the tiny, cramped script, while Severus read the Dark Arts books in the hope of finding more peripheral clues.

On the afternoon of the second day, Sirius slammed the notebook he'd been reading closed and walked out, saying he needed fresh air. He returned, hours later, drunk and apologetic. He was forgiven when he produced a couple of full bottles of firewhisky he’d purloined from his mother’s house.

On the night after the third day, Remus awoke screaming from a nightmare. Severus, who was back sleeping in the kitchen, cuddled and comforted him until he was calm. Sirius looked away and didn’t comment.

On the fourth day, Remus abruptly stood and began to pace around the room.

“What is it?”

“I’ve found the right place.”

Sirius walked over to look.

“What does it say?” Severus asked.

“It… lists the curses that he… used on you.”

Remus had gone pale. Sirius leaned over the book for a few moments, then looked up and glanced at Severus.

“Fuck,” he said.

Remus said nothing.

“You think one of these is what… what blinded Snape?”

“Yes, but I don’t know which one. I recognise maybe half of them, but the rest…”

Remus walked back to the book and stared at the page. His lips were pressed tightly together.

“Severus,” he said, his voice gentle, “do you remember anything about the spell he used?”

Severus shook his head. He’d also gone pale.

“Do you remember when it happened? What happened around it? Anything that might help us narrow it down?”

Remus glanced at Sirius and motioned towards the door with his head.

“I think I’ll… get some milk," Sirius said. "We're running low. Anyone want anything from the shops?”

“Maybe get some bread for lunch?”

Sirius nodded and disappeared out the door.

“You’ve got some signal, haven’t you? Severus is getting _hysterical_ again, Sirius, take a hike.”

“It’s not like that,” Remus said. “I just didn’t think you’d want to talk about it in front of him.”

Severus hung his head and his face disappeared behind a curtain of black hair.

“I don’t want to talk about it at all,” he mumbled. “But… well, we know there is a counter-curse at least, because he said that he was the only one to know it. So I have to try.”

Remus pulled up a chair and sat next to Severus, the notebook beside him on the table. He reached out and held Severus’s hand.

“I would… they would try to question me using leglimency. It didn’t work particularly well, some genius tried just after Bellatrix had…”

Severus pressed his lips together and his body began to shake slightly.

“They figured out that it wasn’t a good idea to do it when I was in a lot of pain, but then… so they did it when I wasn’t so hurt but then I was better able to defend myself. If they got in my head, I would use it as a chance to get in theirs. It was a chance to find things out, see what was going on. I found out about Lily, the Potters, Harry surviving, the disappearance of the Dark… You-know-who. They were angry that I knew and… it’s hazy from there…”

The shaking had become more pronounced and his eyes were filling with tears. Remus took his other hand.

“MacNair blinded me after that. If there are dates or anything…”

“The notebooks aren’t dated, and they aren’t exactly chronological either. But that does help.”

Remus released one hand and began to look through the notebook again.

“Why didn’t they try Veratiserum?”

A faint smile flashed across Severus’s face and then disappeared, and he lifted his chin slightly.

“Who made You-know-who’s Veratiserum?”

“Ah. I see.”

“I made some subtle modifications. It worked on some people and to some extent, but not on me.”

Remus was struck, once again, with the courage that Severus had shown. To have kept his head through all of that, to have remained defiant despite being so hurt, to have not been broken… he was so brave.

“I’m looking for spells with words like _Caeco_ , but there’s nothing. Maybe the opposite, something like _Video_ or _Specto_ and then something like _Extinguo_. And other ideas?”

“ _Video, Specto, Cerno, Conspicio, Aspicio_ –“

“ _Aspicere tenebrae_! Got it!”

Severus flinched at the sudden exclamation. Remus grabbed another notebook.

“I’ve seen that spell before. He used it over and over again on some poor house elf. He alternated it with another spell. I think he must have blinded and unblinded the elf. Maybe practicing…”

Remus was suddenly still and Severus, still holding one of Remus’s hands, held him more tightly.

“I’ve got it,” he said in a reverent voice.

Tears began running down Severus’s face.

“Please, just get on with it. I can’t stand the hope and then the thought it might not work.”

Remus released his hand and picked up his wand. He took a deep breath.

“ _Restituere acies_.”

Severus blinked slowly, his face impassive. Remus was desperate to say something but his mind was whirling and he couldn’t find the words.

“You shaved off your moustache.”

A huge smile spread across Remus’s face.

“It worked then?”

Severus rolled his eyes and Remus laughed.

“You seem so much more yourself being able to roll your eyes.”

“You’re beautiful when you laugh, when you look relaxed and happy like that.”

“What?”

A frown appeared on Remus’s face.

“You’re beautiful. I’ve wanted to see your face so much. I’ve missed it.”

“I’m not… are you sure your eyes…”

“My eyes are perfect. And so are you.”

“But…”

“You aren’t always good at picking up hints, are you?”

Severus lifted his hand and cradled Remus’s jaw.

“I’ve wanted to do this so much. But I wasn’t sure it was a good idea with me… you know… But I can’t make excuses any more.”

The hand which held Remus’s jaw slid behind Remus’s head and pulled it down. Then Severus leaned forward and their lips touched. Oh. OH. Suddenly Severus was on Remus’s lap, one hand in his hair the other sliding behind his back. His lips were strong and warm and then as Remus gasped his tongue slid in. Remus wrapped one arm around Severus’s waist, pulling him closer. He let out a moan. It felt so good, so right. He closed his eyes and let himself feel and smell and taste Severus, and he know that he’d never wanted anything or anyone as much as he wanted the funny, sarcastic, defiant, damaged man in his arms. The man who had, despite his own blindness, made Remus see himself with a new set of eyes.

They both stilled, but didn’t draw apart, as they heard the door open. There was a strangled sound of panic and then the door suddenly slammed closed.


	31. Chapter 31

The knocking at the farmhouse door would have woken the dead – possibly even the dead in the cemetary at Azkaban, or somewhere beyond Dumstrang. Sirius had knocked that way ever since he’d walked in on Remus and Severus kissing, that very first time. While it ensured that he didn’t see anything which might offend his sensibilities, it did have the unfortunate effect of waking Harry, who had, up until that time, given Remus and Severus a fairly peaceful evening.

“Oh, Merlin, he hasn’t been like that the whole time has he?”

Harry had begun to scream. He didn’t like loud noises, sudden movements or flashes of light. Severus left the room hastily to get him and Remus shook his head.

“He just woke with your attempt to break down the door. He’s been lovely. A pleasure. We had a lovely walk down to the village and fed the ducks at the pond. We had a picnic lunch. Then after his nap we fed the flobberworms and then he helped us in the garden…”

Severus, who had walked back into the room with Harry in his arms, rolled his eyes.

“If you call eating dirt _helping_ ,” he said.

“He loves the garden,” Remus replied. “He was pointing to the plants and making Severus name them. He even started trying to repeat the names.”

“Really?”

Sirius looked across at Harry, who had his arms wrapped around Severus’s neck and his face buried in his hair. He’d been a silent little boy when he’d been handed over to his godfather a month ago and it had been unclear how many words he understood, let alone whether he could speak.

“Maybe I should have a garden?”

“I think he’d like that. But let us give you a hand with it. You don’t have time to set up something like that right now. Or just come over and play in ours. It’s not exactly far.”

Sirius nodded, looking relieved. He appeared to be trying to follow every piece of childcare advice he was given, with the result that he was confused and exhausted.

“And do let us give you a break as often as you need it.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Remus,” Severus said. “You’re not the one who had to replant all the fluxweed.”

Remus and Sirius watched as Harry tangled his hand in Severus’s hair and pulled.

“Gentle now, Harry,” Severus murmured to him, untangling his hand.

Their faces were close and Severus smiled at the boy, who rewarded him with a smile back. Whatever he said, Remus was pretty sure that Severus wouldn’t have minded babysitting every night. Sirius clearly took his comments no more seriously than Remus.

“Are you sure about that, Remus?” Sirius asked, looking slightly worried. “It’s such a help, but I don’t want to take your time. And… do you think it’s okay? Molly says I shouldn’t expose him to too many different influences.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, Sirius. Really. She probably means not to dump him on a series of babysitters or house elves that he hardly knows. But it’s us. He sees us every day and we aren’t going anywhere. We will always be there for him.”

“What Mrs Weasley means,” said Severus, a sudden cold tone in his voice “is that you shouldn’t expose him to the influence of those nasty homosexuals who live next door to you. She’s concerned that he will turn out gay.”

Sirius looked shocked.

“He won’t, though, will he? If he spends time here?”

“Of course he won’t,” Severus replied, adding a particularly extravagant eye roll. “If he is gay, which statistics tell us is about a one in ten probability, then he will grow up with positive role models and knowing that he’s fine just the way he is. And if he isn’t, then he will grow up knowing that not everyone is the same as him, and he won’t be an obnoxious bigot about it.”

Severus handed the now-calm Harry to Remus and then slipped his arm around Remus’s waist. Then he looked up at Sirius with a challenge in his eyes. Sirius looked slightly panicked for a moment, before Remus let him off the hook.

“So, what did you do with your day and evening off, Sirius?”

“Um… don’t laugh. I went home, had a long shower and… I went back to bed. I didn’t wake up until three. But I did go out this evening. It’s… I never realised it’s so much easier to meet women walking around with a baby in a pushchair.”

Remus looked slightly disapproving.

“You don’t want to be bringing home a stream of strange women, Sirius. It was alright when you were on your own, but not with Harry.”

“I know. Believe me, I don’t have the energy any more. We just went and had a drink.”

Remus relaxed a little and began putting Harry, who had fallen back to sleep, into his carrycot.

“By the way, Severus, I forgot to ask you how things went yesterday. I was a bit, um, distracted this morning.”

Severus managed his third eye roll of the night. Sirius had turned up with his shirt inside out, his fly undone, porridge in his hair and Harry screaming and hitting him in the head with a toy train.

“It was alright, I think. The case that I was only seventeen when I took the mark was already used by a couple of others, and it didn’t work. But the lawyer seems to think that things will be fine. Margaret’s going to give evidence that I was living in the home of a Death Eater from the age of fifteen and that both Evan and I were pushed into joining by Evan’s father. Which is actually the truth, I suppose. And Albus can say I came to my senses spied for the Order. But I suspect that having a lawyer working for the Malfoys is probably the main thing. She’s used to winning, just because the Malfoys always do.”

Severus looked worried and Remus stood up and took his hand.

“If I get off, it will be down to the lawyer, I think. I still don’t get why Abraxas Malfoy would ask their lawyer to represent me though, at his expense.”

Sirius immediately gave Remus a look. When Remus looked back impassively, with only a faint frown signifying confusion, Sirius glanced over at Severus and then back at Remus.

“Oh, Sirius, remind me to teach you to play poker one day,” Severus said.

“What?” Sirius replied.

“Remus, tell me the truth. Why are the Malfoys paying for my lawyer? Sirius just told me you know.”

For a moment, Remus looked faintly annoyed. Then he gave a sigh.

“Because Lucius asked asked his father to do it.”

“Why would Lucius ask…? Oh. But… but what if you’d got caught?”

Severus started to look alarmed and Sirius was suddenly in a hurry to leave.

Once Sirius had gone, Remus took Severus in his arms.

“It’s alright, love, I didn’t take any risks.”

“You Polyjuiced yourself as Lucius Malfoy and went to talk to Abraxas. What if he’d noticed? What if the real Lucius had turned up? I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand if you… if something…”

“I spoke to Narcissa first. She helped me, kept Lucius away, even lent me one of his robes. She wanted to help you.”

Severus dropped his head. Remus pushed some of the hair back from his face and tucked it behind his ear.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But I didn’t want you to get worried. You were already upset about the trial.”

Severus nodded and leaned in closer to Remus, who whispered softly in his ear.

“You have tomato sauce in your hair, sweetheart. You need a bath.”

Severus looked up and smiled. He allowed Remus to walk him backwards toward the bathroom, slipping his hands around Remus’s waist as if it were a slightly clumsy dance. Remus pressed his body close and dropped his head to brush Severus’s lips with his. Then he unbuttoned Severus’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and dropping it to the floor. His trousers and underwear followed, and then Remus’s clothing, leaving a trail through the kitchen and across the bathroom floor.

Bodies pressed together, they sank into the water. Remus’s fingers skimmed down Severus’s back and he arched his spine at the sensation. Severus hands slipped downwards from Remus’s waist and Remus moaned against Severus’s neck. Warm flesh slid against warm flesh, hardness against hardness and then they were thrusting together as Severus’s hand moved between them and Remus’s strong arms bound them close. With shuddering and soft cries, they went over almost in unison and then sagged together against the side of the bath.

“You know I always planned to seduce you in this bath, Remus.”

“Well, yes, I know that _now_.”

Severus laughed and shifted himself so he was sitting on Remus’s lap. He began to press a trail of kisses from Remus’s shoulder and up the side of his neck.

“Perfect,” he whispered as his lips reached Remus’s ear. “Just perfect.”


End file.
